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The Seaside Library. Pocket Edition. Issued Tri weekly, l^y Subscn!)i ion per Hminni 
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1 Yolande. By William Black 20 

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6 Portia. By “ The Duchess” 20 

7 File No. li3. By Emile Gaboriau 20 

8 East Lynne. By 3Irs. Henry Wood 20 

9 Wanda. By “ Ouida ” 20 

10 The Old Curiosity Shop. By Dickens. 20 

11 John Halifax, Gentleman. Miss Mulock 20 

12 Other People’s Money. By Gaboriau. 20 

13 Eyre’s Acquittal. By Helen B. Mathers 10 

14 Airy Fairy Lilian. By “ The Duchess ” 20 

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19 Her Mother’s Sin. By the Author of 

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20 Within an Inch of His Life. By Emile 

Gaboriau 20 

21 Sunrise. By William Black 20 

22 David Coppertield. Dickens. Vol. I.. 20 
22 David Copperfleld. Dickens. Vol. II. 20 
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24 Pickwick Papers. Dickens. Vol. I... 120 

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25 Mrs. Geoffrey. By ” The Duchess ”... 20 

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30 Faith and Unfaith. By ” The Duchess ” 20 

31 Middlemarch. By George Eliot 20 

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35 Lady Audley's Secret. Miss Braddon 20 

36 Adam Bede. By George Eliot 20 

37 Nicholas Nickleby. By Charles Dickens 30 

38 The Widow Lerbuge. By Gaboriau. . 20 

39 In Silk Attire. By William Black 20 

40 The Last Da3’s of Pompeii. By Sir E. 

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41 Oliver Twist. By Charles Dickens 20 

42 Romola. By George Eliot 20 

43 The Mj’Stery of Orcival. Gaboriau 20 

44 Macleod of Dare. B^” William Black. . 20 

45 A Little Pilgrim. By Mrs. Oliphant. . . 10 

46 Very Hard Cash. By Charles Reade . . 20 

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49 That Beautiful AVretch. By Black. . . 20 

50 The Strange Adventures of a Phaeton. 

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51 Dora Thorne. By the Author of ” Her 

3Iother's Sin ” . . 20 

52 The New Magdalen. By AATlkie Collins. 20 

53 The Story of Ida. By Francesca 10 

54 A Broken AA"edding-Riug. By the Au- 

thor of “Dora Thorne” 20 

.55 The Three Guardsmen. By Dumas. . . . 20 

56 Ph.antom Fortune. Miss Braddon 20 

.57 ShJrley. By Charlotte Bronte 20 



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58 By the Gate of the Sea. D. C. Mui 

59 AT ce Versa. Bj^ F. Anstej' 

60 The Last of the Mohicans. Coopei 

61 Charlotte Temple. By Mrs. Rows< 

62 The Executor. Bj' Mrs. Alexandei 

63 The Spy. By J. Fenimore Cooper 

64 A Maiden Fair. By Charles Gibbo] 

65 Back to the Old Home. B.y M. C. Hi 

66 The Romance of a Poor Young Sli 

By Octave Feuillet 

67 Lorua Dooue. By R. D. Blackmore', 

68 A Queen Amongst AA’'omen. Bj' tl 

Author of “ Dora Thorne ” 

69 Madolin’s Lover. By the Author 

“Dora Thorne” 

70 AA'hite AA’^ings. Bj' AATlliam Black 

71 A Struggle for Fame. Mrs. Riddell 

72 Old Mj ddelton’s Monej*. By M. C. H 

73 Redeemed by Love. Bj' the Authorj 

“ Dora Thorne ” 

74 Aurora B’lo.yd. By Miss M. E. Braddi 

75 Twenty Years After. Bj^ Dumas. 

76 Wife in Name Onlj'. Bj' the iVuthor 

“ Dora Thorne ” , 

77 A Tale of Two Cities. Bj’ Dickens.. 

78 Madcap A^ioiet. By AATlliam Black. 

79 AA'edded and Parted. B3' the Authi 

of “ Dora Thorne ” 

80 June. By Mrs. Forrester > 

81 A Daughter of Heth. B.y AVm. Black. 

82 Sealed Lips. By F. Du jBoisgobe}'. . . 

83 A Strange Storv. Bulwer Lytton 

84 Hard Times. Bj" Charles Dickens 

85 A Sea Queen. By AAT Clark Russell.. 

86 Belinda. By Rhoda Broughton 

87 Dick Sand; or, A Captain at BTUeen. 

B.v Jules A'erne 

88 The Privateersman. Captain Marr^-at 

89 The Red Eric. Bj- R. M. Ballantyne. 

90 Ernest Maltravers. Bulwer Lytton . . 

91 Barnaby Rudge. By Charles Dickens. 

92 Lord lA'iiiie's Choice. Bj' the Author 

of “ Dora Thorne ” 

93 Anthon3’^ Trollope’s Autobiograph3-. . 

94 Little Dorrit. 63' Charles Dickens. . . 

95 The Fire Brigade. R. M. Ballantyne 

96 Erling the Bold. -B3 ’R. jM. Ballantyne 

97 All in a Garden Fair. AA’alter Besant.. 

98 A AA^oman-Hater. By' Charles Reade. 

99 Barbara’s History. A. B. Edwards. . . 

100 20,000 Leagues Under tlie Seas. By 

Jules A’erne 

101 Second Thoughts. Rhoda Broughton 

102 The Moonstone. By AATlkie Collins.. . 

103 Rose Fleming. B3’’ Dora Russell 

104 The Coral Pin. By' F. Du Boisgobey. 

105 A Noble AVife. B.y John Saunders. . . . 

106 Bleak House. B3' Charles Dickens. . . 

107 Dombe.3' and Son. Charles Dickens. . 

108 The Cricket oix the Hearth, and Doctor 

Jlarigold. B.y Charles Dickens 

109 Little Loo. By' AA'. Clark Russell 

110 Under the Red Flag. By Miss Braddon 

111 The Little School^Iaster Mark. By' 

J. H. Shorthouse 

112 The AA'aters of Marali. By John Hill 


2( 


(This liist is Continued on Third Page of Cover.) 


I-ABY MURIEL’S SECfiET. 


f 

By jean middlemass.. 





GEORGE MUNRO, PUBLISHER, 

17 TO 27 Vandewater Street. 



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I 




LADY MURIEL'S SECRET. 


CHAPTER 1. 


^ ''Lady Muktel’s carriage! I wonder what she be do- 
ing in Arundale on a Sabbath afternoon?’’ 

"The carriage! Where, Granny? I like to see that 
grand carriage with its big horses coming down the hill. 
It bowls along so swift. It seems to give me a whiff out of 
another life.” 


"Another life, girl! Aren’t you content with this one.^’ 
and an old woman who was seated in an arm-chair by the 
window turned her keen eyes on her- granddaughter’s face, 
as she stood gazing over some low cottages opposite the 
one m which they were living. The girl was looking 
hard at Lady Muriel Alston’s carriage, as it sped down 
the hill from Dale House. 

" Content?” she miswered, half dreamily, more bent 
on watching the carriage than on her grandmother’s words, 
" Ay, of course I am content, but at nineteen one don’t 
sit with folded hands. I suppose I shall live my life.” 

"Live your life? Just stick to your work in the 
factory, my lass, and hope that one day some honest lad 
will make you his wife; and leave ‘living a life’ to 
wenches who haven’t had your eddication and bringing 

"Marry a factory worker! No, Granny, that I never 

will. My mother, you’ve often told me, married a-: ; 

but I shall miss seeing the carriage properly if I don’t run 
outside.” 


" Follow your mother, girl, and you’ll come to destruc- 
tion. Poor lass! if you’ve got they grand ideas you’d best 
die at once. Bless my heart, what have I striven and 




4 


LADY MURIJIL’S SECRET. 


toiled for, to make yon a decent, hardworking girl, if 
you’re going to flaunt after every gentleman in the coun- 
try. Not marry a factory worker indeed!” 

"And old Mrs. Urske grew quite excited as she chatted 
on. 

It was all lost on her granddaughter, however, who was 
standing by the door waiting for the Dale House carriage 
to pass. 

Patty was right; she was only nineteen, and she had 
her life before her. No one, save purblind old Granny 
could doubt it, as they looked into her bright sunny face, 
with its large blue eyes, full lips, fair complexion, and 
masses of curling auburn hair, which would, not be re- 
pressed or straightened, notwithstanding the washing and 
damping which, by Granny’s orders, it daily received. 

As Patty Urske — she was always called Patty Urskcj 
because her grandmother’s name was Urske, and no one 
in Arundale knew Patty’s real name — as she stood by the 
door that lovely July afternoon, in a tidy blue gingham 
frock, put on quite clean because it was Sunday, the most 
hlase of beauty-seekers must have been awakened at the 
sight of her. 

The prettiest girl in all the Dale, ay, that she was, 
though she herself was only just beginning to find it out,, 
the fact having been thrust on her, in the first instance,, 
by the malice and uucharitableness of the girls with whom 
she came in contact. 

The Urskes had only been in Arundale about two years; 
they had come from London, they said, but no one knew 
anything of their antecedents, neither the old woman nor 
Patty being free of speech. 

In education, appearance, and general neatness they 
were considerably above the rest of the Dale population, 
which was another reason for the evident prejudice there 
was against them. 

‘^Why such moighty folks as they should humble their- 
selves to factory work?” was a question very frequently 
asked by one neighbor of another. 

For Patty Urske had been now for more than eighteen 
months pasta gold burnisher in Messrs. Schippheim’s large 
porcelain manufactory. The employment pleased her less 
than she chose to acknowledge to her grandmother, not so 
much on account of the actual work she had to do, as be* 



LADY Muriel’s secret. 


cause the association witli coarse, low natures jarred some- 
Miiat on her more refined temperament. 

Patty, though her ruling passion was ambition, was. 
however, too ^od a girl to complain uselessly. She knew 
that old Mrs. Urske could not keep the pot boiling without 
hei assistance, and she contributed to it gladly, only re- 
solving to bide her- time for finding a more congenial 
mode in which to make money. • 

How that more congenial mode was ever likely to be 
discovered in Arundale neither she nor any one who knew 
he divined. It was not a lai'ge place, 

numbering in all about three thousand souls, and out of 
the three thousand every available man, woman, and child 
was employed in the factory. There were only just enough 
shops in the town to serve the necessities of life; two doc- 
tors, a pastor, who, unaccustomed to such sort of folk 
made but little way with his flock; a Board school, and a 
JNonconformist minister, who carried off the larger portion 
.'4: Established clergyman’s congregation. All the rest 

was factory or belonging to the factory; even the hospital, 
which was the gem of Arundale, had been built and en- 
dowed by the firm, and was worked by a staff of nurses 
under the immediate supervision of the elder partner. 

How comes it, then, that so well appointed an equipage 
bearing such an unmistakably aristocratic brand as Ladv 
Muriel Alston’s, should be seen dashing through Arundale 
in that hot July afternoon? 

The Alstons are factory too. 

Though the firm goes by the name of Schippheim and 
Company, Mr. Herbert Alston is one of the partners, and 
so rich a man that he did not find it difficult some three 
years ago to obtain the hand of Lady Muriel Maxwell, 
youngest daughter of Lord Auchinlie, an impoverished 
Scotch earl. 

It was a great day for Arundale when the junior partner 
married an earl’s daughter, each one of the ""hands ’’tak- 
ing it home to himself as an especial honor; and never did 
Lady Muriel appear among them but she was treated with 
as much deference and homage as if she were the Queen 
herself. 


Patty Urske had caught a good deal of the Lady Muriel 
infection, in so far that she was always glad to' look at 


6 


LADY Muriel’s secret. 


her; but, unlike her neighbors, it was more with a view to 
imitation than worship. 

What would she not have given to be a great lady like 
Lady Muriel, and wear nice clothes and pretty laces, and 
have a grand carriage to drive about in? 

Ay, and she would have it too, some day. 

It never occurred to Patty, as it did to others in Arun- 
dale, that the distance between them and Lady Muriel 
was so great as to be well-nigh impassable. 

Dale House, where Lady Muriel lived, was about two 
miles out of Arundale, at the top of a high hill, and for a 
long while the carriage could be seen as it wound its way 
round and round down the hill. All the while as she 
watched it Patty was thinking of her own destiny in life. 
Two men from the other side of the road gave her a good- 
day as she stood there; they were two of the most respect- 
able pf the factory hands, but she only nodded her head 
to them very carelessly. 

Joe Marks and Dick Swift,” she muttered to herself; 
“ they’re what granny would call God-fearing lads. Joe 
keeps his old mother, and Dick puts his money in the 
savings bank. She’d have me marry the like o’ them, 
but if I am to spend my life with factory boys, the sooner 
the Lord takes it the better.” 

This somewhat irreverent monologue was, however, 
brought to an abrupt conclusion by the carriage turning 
the corner of the street and coming all at once into full 
view. Hats were off everywhere among the many loiterers 
about Arundale on this holiday afternoon, and many a 
courtesy was dropped. But Lady Muriel did not note them ; 
perhaps she was too much accustomed to homage, or per- 
/ haps she was too much taken up by the young beauty at 
the cottage door, Tor, very certainly, her eyes once cast on 
Patty, she did not remove them till she was well out of 
sight. 

“That girl is much too pretty to be an Arundale 
worker,” she observed, as soon as they were well past 
Patty, to a lady who was sitting beside her. 

“ Who? which? where?” asked a young man, lounging 
on the back seat of a barouche. 

“ Oh, you are too late! We have passed her ages ago,” 
and Lady Muriel laughed, and probably thought no more 
of the subject. 


7 


LADY MUK1EL^S SECRET. 

Not so Patty; she had seen each inmate of that carriage 
Tery clearly; and their general appearance, the very color 
of their clothes, would be graven on her recollection for 
days. The young lady, Miss Yorke, who sat beside Ladv 
Muriel, and was her cousin, Patty knew very well by 
sight; but the man was a stranger to her. He was a good- 
looking man, about eight-and-twenty, with blue eyes, and 
a long, fair-beard — probably an admirer of Miss Yorke, 
Patty thought. But young fair men were not beings who 
formed any part in Patty’s crude carving of her life, so 
she bestowed no second thought upon him, but stood 
speculating about the ladies, exercising her mind very 
much about the fashion of their clothes and tlie whiteness 
of their skin. She would have been rather surprised if 
any one had told her that Lady Muriel’s complexion was 
almost an unhappiness to her; that she used cream of 
roses every morning, wore thick veils whenever the wind 
was in the east, and would have given a whole year’s in- 
come to have possessed the soft delicate coloring of the 
girl who was leaning against the doorpost watching the 
carriage. 

For such a long time did Patty stand there dreaming 
that the old woman by the window grew impatient. Yet 
Patty was not a dreamer in the usual way; she was far 
too ambitious to be otherwise than practical. She shook 
herself when she heard her grand motliePs voice as though 
to dispel the visions that flitted around her, and went 
into the room, which served them for both sitting and 
bedroom. 

‘‘ Five o’clock struck by the factory clock, and me dying 
for a cup of tea, which I don’t seem likely to get,” grumbled 
the old woman, in the querulous tone of age. 

All right, Granny; you shall have it in a jiffey,” cried 
the girl, cheerily, ‘‘ I did not know it was so late. The 
kettle is on the fire, and a few sticks will set it boiling 
while I get the things.” 

“Sticks! that’s just what you do, Patty; waste the 
sticks. AVhy can’t you look to the kettle and see that it 
boils without wasting wood? You’ll come to the work’us, 
girl.” 

Patty Avas too wise to answer; she gave a little jerk as 
though this sort of petty economy irritated her, but she 
took of the wood store sparingly. 


8 


LADY MURIEL’S SECRET. 


In a few minutes the tea was quite ready and Patty 
wheeled her Granny’s chair to the table, for, worn out by 
years and work, the old woman was too crippled to walk. 
Most likely it was her utter helplessness and dependence 
on her neighbors for assistance, when Patty was not by to 
give it to her, that made her irritable and exacting; at 
least so Patty was logical enough to think while she strove 
with all iier might not to give cross answers, or to be put 
out by Granny’s tiresome ways. 

Try how she could, however, it was sometimes very 
difficult to keep her temper, and the constant unnecessary 
fault-finding to which she was subjected was scarcely cal- 
culated to improve the girl’s disposition, only, as it hap- 
pened, Patty’s will was a strong one, and she was deter- 
mined to remember that Granny had been very good to 
her, working hard to bring her up respectably and give 
her a fair modicum of education, and that she must in her 
turn put up with her now that she was old and unable to 
fend for herself. It was, perhaps, more duty than love that 
impelled Patty to this practice, for love is apt to be speed- 
ily dried up when very constant drains are made at its 
fount. 

There, Granny, and the toast is lovely — real pork 
dripping; see, I’ve cut off all the crust, and I’ll eat it 
myself. You will enjoy your tea this blessed Sabbath, I 
do believe.” 

Patty’s fresh young voice was like a breeze of ozone 
even without her cheery words, and if the old woman 
would only have deigned to throw off iier mask, she 
would have acknowledged it, for she loved the girl dearly, 
notwithstanding her constant grumbling. She ate up her 
toast greedily, and. drank the sweet tea, in which she only 
indulged on Sunda3^s, without apparently noticing that 
Patty’s crusts were dry, for- she had reserved the only 
remaining piece of dripping for Granny’s next piece. She 
was just preparing it with much care when a knock came 
at the door, and two neighbors asked admittance for a 
Sunday chat. 

Old Mrs. XJrske never told anything about her own 
affairs, but she was always glad to listen to those of other 
people, and Patty, as a rule, welcomed strangers because 
they generally put the old lady in a good humor. But 
Bhe was not quite so pleased to see these people as she 


LADY MURIEL’S SECRET. 9 

might have been, since they were Joe Marks and his 
mother, who was an especial crony of Mrs. Urske. 

Patty had a suspicion that Joe Marks was making up 
to her, and that Granny encouraged it, and as her ambi- 
tion led her far beyond the humble position of Mr. Joe 
Marks, she never saw him come across their threshold 
without regretting that she happened to be at home, since 
she was compelled to be civil to him in her own house. In 
the factory, when they came in contact, she was very off- 
hand, always refusing Joe’s little attentions if he wanted 
to see her home, carry her implements, or render her any 
small assistance. But she did not meet him often, as the 
men and women worked in different rooms, and even en- 
tered the building by different doors. 

Thought we’d look in and see how you be doing this 
bright evening, Mrs. Urske,” said Mrs. Marks, as she sat 
down, and Patty poured out some tea. Heat’s a-bit 
trying to you, I make no doubt.” 

When is not ihe weather trying to two croaking old 
Englishwomen? On this occasion, however, it did not 
long form the subject of conversation. The sight of the 
Dale House carriage in Arundale on a Sunday afternoon 
had set the population on the qui vive. 

Never since Schippheim’s factory was a factory has 
such a thing as their carriage in Arundale on the Sabbath 
ever been seen afore,” said Mrs, Marks, with as much in- 
dignation in her tone as though she were a strict church- 
goer, which assuredly she was not, her Sabbatarianism 
being entirely confined to well-worn usages and old prej- 
udices. 

Why Lady Muriel shouldn’t drive of a Sunday I dun- 
no,” observed Patty. What’s the use of being a lady if 
you can’t do as you like?” 

‘‘And the coachman and the footman, and the horses 
to clean; haven’t you any consideration for them? How 
would you like to do work up at the factory of a Sunday?” 

“ As well one day as another. I never said as I liked 
it any day,” answered Patty, in a low tone. She evident- 
ly did not wish her granny to hear. This Joe observed, 
for he broke into a sentence which his mother began with 
“ Dear heart! Did any one ever hear the like ” — by ask- 
ing Patty if she wished to be a lady. Patty did not 
speak, but the bright light in her eyes while she nodded 


10 


LADY MURIEL’S SECRET. 


her head fully expressed her feelings, and made Joe 
heave a sigh as he went and stood by the window. 

Poor, hard-working, contented Joe! It was a pity, most 
people would have said, tliat Patty could not fancy him; 
they might even have added that it was strange she did 
not; for he was a well-looking lad of about twenty-two, 
with an intelligent, open countenance, the very type of 
an intelligent English artisan. He never frittered away 
his wages in public-houses and low pastimes; perhaps he 
was too humdrum and goody according to Patty’s estimate 
of what a man should be. There is no knowing what 
virtue or vice it is in a man that pleases a woman. 


CHAPTEK II. 

AFA^tlLYPARTY. 

Ix order to answer the question of where the Dale 
House people were going on that Sunday afternoon — an 
incident which gave rise to so much discussion in x\run- 
dale — we must go back to the previous afternoon. 

Lady Muriel is sitting in her own particular boudoir, 
with all the rose- colored blinds pulled down, partly to 
shelter the room from the rays of the sun, but chiefly to 
cast over it a becoming light. It is a very pretty room, 
full of articles of vertu and art treasures of much worth, 
all tastefully, even artistically, arranged. There are two 
or three pictures on the walls, of the decided Burne Jones 
type; yet Lady iMuriel regards aetheticism as a vice. She 
delights in art in all its most recognized forms; in fact, 
the potentates in the factory almost wish Lady iMnriel 
was not such an art dabbler, since she interferes with the 
designs of the work that has to be executed, in a manner 
which rather hinders than accelerates labor. 

To such a degree has this interference extended, that 
about three weeks before the Sunday afternoon on which 
the carriage passed the Urskes’ cottage, the chief draughts- 
man and director of the designs generally, had thrown up 
his appointment in a huff, to Lady Muriel’s no small de- 
light, but rather to the consternation of the partners, 
who, although they had a firm belief in Lady Muriel’s 


LADY MURIEL’S SECRET. 11 

taste, were yet a little puzzled to know where to turn for 
a man competent to fill so important a position. 

Lady Muriel was, however, quite equal to the occasion* 
She knew where to find the very artist who would make 
the beauty of their designs the talk of Europe she 
said; perhaps, indeed, she had had this very man in lier ^ 
mind when she made Arundale too hot for the crushed in- 
dividual whom she called ‘‘that cramped, old-fashioned, 
would-be artist, Mr. Richard Jones.” 

Lady Muriel’s protege was a Frenchman, Paul Bru- 
meau by name. It was to meet Paul Brumeau that Lady 
Muriel had committed the somewhat heinous crime, in 
the eyes of the Arundale people, of having the carriage 
out on Sunday. 

As she sits in her boudoir on the previous day, a foot- 
man in a rather gorgeous blue and red livery brings in the 
midday letters by the second post. Lady Muriel gives a 
little cry of delight when she reads the top one bearing a 
French mark. While she is thus engaged we may as well 
sketch her as she reclines in the corner of her dark satin 
sofa. 

She is a woman of about eight and twenty; tall and 
graceful in figure, but possessing no actual beauty. Her 
face cannot boast of one good feature, save a pair of flash- 
ing eyes, and the complexion is so colorless as to be called 
by her detractors, pasty. And of course Lady Muriel has 
detractors. What elegant, artistic-looking woman has 
not? And that she can lay claim to these ad jectives there 
is little doubt. Her black flossy hair is always perfectly 
dressed, lying close to her head in thick plaits. Her 
dresses, exquisite in fit and style, are, for the most part, 
models from La Ferri^re, or copies turned out with won- 
derful faithfulness by a French maid who came to Lady 
Muriel from one of the great French houses when she 
married Mr. Alston. In the hands of these two able 
artistes. Lady Muriel is never either over or under dressed. 
Silks and satins for home wear in the morning she would 
as soon think of donning as sackcloth for a ball. More 
than one connoisseur has believed in Lady Muriel’s artistic 
proclivities from the simple fact that she so thoroughly 
understands the arc of appropriate clothes. 

As soon as she has finislied reading the letter in which 
M. Brumeau announces his arrival in England for the foL 






12 


LADY MUEIEL’S SECRET. 


lowing day, she rings the bell and desires the aforesaid 
man in blue to inform Mr. Alston, as soon as he comes in 
from the works, that she wishes to speak to him. 

Dale House is a large, white, Italian-looking villa, with 
green Veiretians and a green veranda, about a mile-and-a- 
half up hill from the works. Mr. Alston seldom returns 
so early in . the da}^ having a snug room in the factory, 
but Lady Muriel remembers that it is Saturday, and he 
will therefore be in to luncheon. 

She is very much interested in this new epoch which 
she believes is about to begin for the factory, and is so 
excited that she does not even attempt to open the other 
letters. Hearing the sound of voices outside on the ve- 
randa, which is shady, she takes up a parasol to keep her 
from the sun, and goes in the direction of the voices. 

An Indian rug has been thrown down, and on it a fair 
young man in a suit of very light clothes, and a hat to 
match them, with a puggeree tied round it, is lying at full 
length. He is supposed to be reading a newvspaper, but 
is not bestowing on it a very large share of his attention. 
Hear him, on a low chair, is seated Lady Muriel’s pretty 
little first cousin Bertha Yorke. She is dressed all in 
white batiste, with a wide blue sash round her dainty 
waist; and the curls of her rippling brown hair are almost 
concealed under a very large flapping sun hat. She is not 
reading or pretending to read, for seated in her lap is 
Master Eric, Lady Muriel’s two-years-old boy, who has a 
perfect passion for Bertha, and, a young rebel by nature, 
is never so good as when in her society. 

T thought I should find you here. Really, Bertha, 
yon will tire yourself to death with that child. Where’s 
his nurse?” 

And there was an amount of petulance in Lady Muriel’s 
tone as she spoke, and a frown on her white brow which 
showed that something beyond the very usual occurrence 
of Eric being on Bertha’s knee had put her out. 

It could scarcely be the announced arrival of M. Paul 
Brumeau. Was it not rather the sight of that little group 
so comfortably arranged on the Indian rug? 

The young man lounging there jumped up as he heard 
Lady Muriel speak, for he had not noticed her footstep, 
and he went at once to get her a chair. 



LADY MUlilEL’S SECKET. 


13 


licious. 


{( 


So delightful here. Lady Muriel: quite cool and de- 

n o 


Thank you, Christian, I do not intend to stay. I 
have too much to do to be lounging about at this hour. 

M. Paul Brumeau comes to-morrow.” 

‘^Pirst rate!” cried the man she called Christian. 
^MVhat a wonderfully clever woman you are. Lady 
Muriel.” ! 

And there was something very much like a flash passed 
simultaneously from his gray eyes and from her black 
ones, while he spoke — which Bertha, however, did not 
see; perhaps they did not intend that she should do so. 

Lady Muriel went on talking practically. 

M. Paul Brumeau will arrive in England at a very 
early hour, and will travel straight on, arriving, as he 
thinks, at Arundale, about half-past four in the afternoon. 

You know there are no trains stopping at Arundale on 
Sunday, so he will find himself stranded eight miles off 
at Belton. I wonder if Mr. Alston would let us have the 
carriage to go and meet him. He objects, as a rule, to its 
going out on Sunday.” 

‘‘ Of course he will. Does he ever oppose your wishes 
when he really knows you want a thing?” 

This was Bertha’s observation. 

‘•'Well, no, I don’t think he does. He is very good,” 
and she gave a little sigh and closed her eyes as though 
dwelling unctuously on the merits of her husband. 

Christian dispelled the dream, however, by jumping 
up. 

Let us all go. I am quite longing to see this Paul 
Brumeau. I have heard so much about him.” 

I am willing, but of course it entirely depends on Mr. 
Alston. Here he comes.” 

Enters on this family group, Herbert Alston, junior 
partner of the house of Schippheim and Co. He is not 
fair to look on, but he is a young man, still in the thir- 
ties, that is to say. He has a coarse, full face, is short, 
rather round in figure, and take all his attributes col- 
lectively, he by no means gives you the idea of a thorough 
gentleman, though a moneyed man unquestionably he 
must be, or surely Lady Muriel would never have married 
him. He wears a cutaway tweed suit, and a low, stiff hat. 


14 


LA.DY Muriel’s secret. 


which he pushes to the back of his head as soon as he gets 
into the shade, and begins a sentence with — 

“Cursed nuisance being without a designer; there’s an 
order come in from ” 

Seeing Eric, however, in Bertha’s lap, he does not fin- 
ish, but snatching up the child, begins to kiss and play 
with him, while Lady Muriel says with dignity— 

“ Shop is not allowed in play hours, Herbert; yet we 
should like to know from whom an order has come.” 

“From the Emperor of China, for a dinner service of 
which all the plates are to be English views.” 

“ What nonsense!” 

“ On my honor, it is gospel truth; and now Jones is 
gone, I don’t know how we shall accomplish it.” 

“Jones! pooh! Paul Brumeau will be here to-mor- 
raw.” 

“ No! that is news,” and Mr. Alston put the baby back 
in its cousin’s lap, and directed all his attention to his 
wife’s announcement, as he asked: 

“You are sure, Muriel, that this Brumeau is really a 
great artist? You know we have quite trusted to you in 
this matter. As for Schippheim ” 

“ My dear Herbert, don’t quote Mr. Schippheim. He 
is quite satisfied with my choice, and told me yesterday he 
was only too delighted to think we had secured the serv- 
ices of so great a man as M. Paul Brumeau.” 

“ Well, I don’t pretend to be a judge in matters of de- 
sign, I leave them to you and Schippheim, contenting my- 
self with the practical business details. So this man is 
coming to-morrow you say?” 

“Yes, and we want to drive over to Belton and meet 
him. As a foreigner and a great artist, it would only be 
kind, especially as there are no trains to Arnndale on 
Sunday.” 

“The carriage on a Sunday! What will the people 
think?” 

“They must learn, my dear Herbert, that unusual oc- 
casions demand unusual treatment,” and Lady Muriel’s 
brow contracted just enough to show she intended to have 
her own way in this matter. 

“ Well, well, Avefl, my love. Do as you like. I dare 
say Christian will go with you. I am sorry I cannotj but 


LADY MUKIEL'S SECRET. 


15 


I have arranged to run over some accounts with Schipp- 
heim to-morrow afternoon.’’ 

‘‘On a Sunday, Herbert! Oh, fie!” But Lady Muriel 
smiled as she chided him. She had gained her point, and 
consequently was in her wonted good temper. 

Lady Muriel was too well bred ever to suffer herself to 
be much ruffled, at least in outward appearance; but those 
who knew her well had no difficulty in reading the deter- 
mination expressed in that pucker which fevery now and 
again showed itself on her white brow. Eric’s nurse soon af- 
terward came and took him away, and tlien the whole party 
went in to luncheon, during which repast Lady Muriel 
never ceased to converse about the great future that was 
in store for the porcelain manufactory of Schippheim and 
Co., under the artistic direction of M. Paul Brumeau. 

Mr. Alston was evidently rather bored, for the import- 
ant reason that he understood but little of what he called 
art jargon.” Common delf was to him as valuable as 
Sevres, provided it brought in as good a money return. 

“ And there is a good deal — a very good deal of money 
to be made out of honest eartheiiware pots and pans,” he 
had been heard to observe more than once, when pressed 
very closely in matters of art. 

Somewhat strange, it may be imagined, that this man 
should be a partner in so essentially artistic a firm as that 
of the great Arundale porcelain and pottery manufacture. 
But Mr. Schippheim had admitted this young man some 
ten years ago, for two reasons: first, because he believed in 
his business habits; and, secondly, because he brought a 
good deal of ready money into the concern, by which 
means Mr. Schippheim would be able to extend the busi- 
ness, and put into working order several slumbering 
artistic plans. ^ 

Mr. Alston was not, however, such a mere clerk with 
money as Mr. Schippheim expected; he did not always 
agree with the senior partner in his vagaries, as he was 
pleased to call his schemes, and the disputes between 
them on the subject of money were' not unfrequently loud 
and violent. In these, of course, Lady Muriel took no 
part, nor, indeed, was she aware of how frequent were 
these disputes. 

But leaving the Dale House party to dawdle through 
the intervening hours before the time should arrive to 


16 


LADY MUKIEL’S SECKET. 


bring M. Paul Brumeau back from the Belton station as 
their guest till some comfortable quarters should be 
arranged for him in the town, let us turn our attention to 
the great potentate of Arundale, the senior partner, as he 
sits on the following Monday morning in his office in a 
quadrangle at the back of the works. 


CHAPTEK III. 

THE SEHIOE PARTNEE. 

Max Schippheim, as his name denotes, was a German, 
but he had lived so long in England that he had lost all 
remnant of his nationality. He barely spoke with a for- 
eign accent, and often laughingly said that he had nearly 
forgotten how to talk his .own language. 

At this period he was a man of about eight and forty, 
though he looked older, probably from having abjured 
for years past all youthfukamusements and devoted him- 
self con amove to the building up, arranging, and carrying 
out of the great Arundale works. 

Till he had taken Mr. Alston into partnership some 
ten years pnmously, the management of the whole con- 
cern had rested with himself alone, a stupendous un- 
dertaking, which only a very strong head could have con- 
templated. much less carried out with wonderful precis- 
ion, entering minutely into the smallest details. But 
you had only to look at Mr. Schippheim to see that he was 
not wanting in brains. He had a large, well-formed head, 
a high, intellectual forehead, and dark intelligent eyes; 
otherwise, he was by no means a handsome or even a good- 
looking man. Broad-shouldered and tall, yet he stooped 
as he walked along with a somewhat slovenly gait, possibly 
from his having contracted the habit of looking abstract- 
edly at the ground while engaged in deep thought. 

As for his clothes, if not exactly dirty, they were at 
least very slovenly and untidy. It was a point on which 
he and Lady Muriel had many a passage at arms, and to 
some extent she had succeeded in reforming his appear- 
ance. What she could not succeed in effecting was that 
he should cut his hair, which grew in untidy profusion ail 


LABY MURIEL'S SECRET, 


1 ? 


about his shoulders and face. He rather liked Lady 
Muriel; the keen way in which she entered into every- 
thing connected with the artistic department at Arundale 
amused him, while he acknowledged that she occasionally 
threw new and therefore precious lights on matters con- 
cerning taste and design; but Max Schippheim had never 
habituated himself to think of women as being anything 
more than the playthings of life, and he could not be ex- 
pected all at once to give Lady Muriel an important place 
in the Arundale works. 

He was always obliged to her when she interested her- 
self in matters of detail, as she had done on the occasion 
of the dismissal of the inefficient designer in chief; but 
though Lady Muriel gave out that she had been solely in- 
strumental in unearthing and bringing M. Paul Brumeau 
over even from the Sevres manufactory itself, yet she 
knew quite well that Mr. Schippheim would not have en- 
gaged him on her word had he not learnt from one of his 
correspondents that Brumeau, though holding but a sub- 
ordinate position at Sevres, was yet a good artist and capa- 
ble of doing even great work. 

Lady Muriel was quite aware in her own heart of what 
a disparaging view Mr. Schippheim took of all women, 
herself included, and we might almost say she hated him 
for the knowledge, though she managed to conceal her 
hate so discreetly that with most people the feeling she 
entertained for him would most certainly be called very 
strong liking. If she did not like him, they would have 
asked, then\vhy was she always looking him up, interest- 
ing herself about his clothes, his mode of life, the way he 
over- fatigued himself at the works, etc., etc. 

They could not be expected to see all at once through 
the thick mist in which Lady Muriel enveloped her ac- 
: tions, and to discover that the ruling passion of her life 
was a love of power. 

: ^ To govern calmly, gracefully, softly from the corner of 
" her satin-covered sofa, but still to govern, no matter who 
or what, whatever came in her way— her husband of 
course, though he did not guess it; and for this she de- 
serves kudos for her cleverness and tact. 

One individual, however, read her through and through 
as though she were a book, and that individual was Max 
Schippheim himself. He had been perusing faces and 


18 


LADY MUKIEL'S SECRET. 


contemplating characters all his life; it would have been 
strange had he failed in studying Lady Muriel. 

Slie would take the whole of Arniidale into her indi- 
vidual charge and lock me up in my own office as a cipher 
if I gave her her head,” he would observe occasionally to 
himself; and then, chuckling, he would add: ‘‘And a 
jolly mess she would make of it. . No, my little lady, you 
must have your vanity kept just gently tickled, and be 
retained as merely the pretty plaything which you ought 
to be.” 

And on this he acted, to the constant irritation of her 
ladyship, who never could discover, plausible though he 
invariably was in his manner to her, that she got any 
nearer to filling the post she so much desired at the right 
hand of the senior partner. He was always moving 
without her, showing her that he had a strong right hand of 
his own, and that though he accepted lier pretty advances 
with much seeming satisfaction and appreciation, yet that 
he intended to use it. 

It was the old story of woman’s wit .against man’s 
strength, and, for the present at all events, every day that 
broke on Arundale showed that the man was getting by 
far tlie best of the struggle. Perhaps she had not set her 
full mental energies to work, or perhaps she was no match 
for him — time alone would prove which of they twain was 
the greater. 

For tlie moment Lady Muriel was delighted that she 
had so far gained her point as to have brought Paul Bru- 
meau to Arundale, for had she not thus secured for herself 
a powerful coadjutor? — at least she hoped so. Twenty 
times she had read the postscript of a letter she had re- 
ceived from a cousin in Paris about this new addition to 
the Arundale life. 

“ He is a man of refinement, who has known better 
days, brimming over with talent; but, alas! for his worldly 
knowledge, he is rather a facile tool in the hands of a 
crafty woman, hence the reason he is so anxious to leave 
France at this moment.” 

She has not shown this postcript either to Mr. Schipp- 
heim or her husband; beyond, therefore, that he is a good 
artist and a clever designer, the senior partner knows noth- 
ing of the man he is about to receive as he sits running his 
eye over a pile of correspondence in his office that Monday 


LADY MUIUEL’S SECRET. 19 

morning. After a while the foreman enters the room 
and tells him that M. Brnmeau is in attendance. 

‘‘Ask him to come in, Andrews.” 

Another second and the Frenchman stands inside the 
door, and makes a profound bow. As he raises his head 
the two men look at each other keenly for a second or so, 
as though seeking to read eacli other, and Mr. Schippheim 
begs his new employ^ to be seated. 

Paul Brumeau is a little man of about three-and-tliirty, 
so little and so odd-looking in dress and appearance that 
Mr. Schippheim is half afraid as he looks at him that he 
will be a sort of butt at the works, and not able to main- 
tain any of the respect which it is so necessary that the 
chief designer should inspire. 

He has a bird-like face, with the tiniest of mustaches,, 
and a long thin head — a striking contrast to Max Schipp- 
heim’s large broad one; his fingers, too, are rather like 
claws, and he keeps his not over-clean nails very pointed, 
as though to accentuate the resemblance. His somewhat 
shrunken legs are cased in trousers of the largest patterned 
dark plaid, and he also wears a cutaway coat of the same 
material, and a red cravat round his neck. Heed we say 
that his linen, as much as is perceptible of it, is not unim- 
peachable in hue. Taken altogether, his appearance is 
rather picturesque, though scarcely in accordance with 
English taste. 

“ So this is my lady’s protege,” thought Mr. Schipp- 
heim. “Well, She’ll soon change the attire, and then-for 
the rest we shall see,” and a smile stole over his face for a 
moment as he thought of this odd-looking man driving 
through Arundale in Lady Muriel’s carriage on the pre- 
vious day, of which expedition he had heard, and did not 
altogether regret it, since he was quite aware that Lady 
, Muriel’s protection would go a long way toward ingratiat- 
■ ing M. Brumeau in the favor of the Arundale people. 
'The [first few introductory sentences over, the conversa- 
tion between the two men turned on matters of detail re- 
lating to the arrangement of the works and the organiza- 
tion of the workers, until after a while they went out 
together to inspect the premises generally. 

Mr. Schippheim had argued truly; there was many a 
stifled giggle and repressed smile as they passed the vari- 
ous groups of workers, for which reason he treated M. 


20 


LADY Muriel’s secret. 


Paul Bril mean with more deference than he would other- 
wise have done. He was determined to support him 
thoroughly while he was in his,.est{ihlishment, though he 
equally made up his mind to get rid of him speedily, un- 
less he turned out to be a very Apelles with his pencil. 

One great drawback to M. Brumeau in Mr. Schipp- 
heim’s opinion was his scant knowledge of English, while 
Schippheim himself, though of course with a German 
accent, spoke French fluently; but he was afraid that his 
curious phraseology when he gave orders and attempted to 
instruct would either be misunderstood or treated with 
derision and contempt.' 

Taken collectively the advantages and disadvantages 
that this man possessed, Mr. Schippheim was not exactly 
satisfied. Had he not, in spite of his determination to tlie 
contrary, been a little bit influenced by Lady Muriel’s 
wishes? 

Not that such an idea occurred to him even for a min- 
ute as he made a tour of the manufactory. He had far 
too great a belief in his own strength to imagine it possi- 
sible that a woman could have any power to impel him 
either to the right or left. If he had ever had any ten- 
der feeling for any woman he must either have hidden 
it carefully away, or the fair one must dwell somewhere 
out of daily reach, for none of the Arundale people ever 
suspected that Mr. Schippheim knew what the word 

love” meant. 

The master and his new designer had passed through 
several of the lower rooms and were just entering the 
large painting room, where some half-dozen artists pos- 
sessing more or less knowledge were employed in embel- 
lishing plates, cups, mugs, and various other vessels for 
domestic use. 

Now Mr. Schippheim thought he would be able to 
guage this new director’s abilities by his remarks, when 
he was stopped at the very entrance by the overlooker 
of the mechanical department, who, touching his hat to 
the chief, asked him for a hospital order. 

This sudden demand was a little out of rule, accidents 
being admitted to the hospital without a moment’s delay, 
and all cases of illness being scheduled and laid before 
Mr. Schippheim with his letters in the early morning. 

'' Something very urgent, I suppose, Andrews. What 


LADY MURIEl/S SECRET. 


21 


is it? I thought you said all the hands answered to their 
names this morning?” 

Yes, sir. It is not a hand, but old Mrs. Urske, Patty 
Urske’s grandmother; she has had a fit.” 

‘‘Patty Urske — Patty Urske. I don’t recollect thfe 
name. Do I know her?” 

“ She’s a good burnisher, sir, A tidy -looking girl with 
auburn hair; generally sits near the door in the long: room. 
She ” 

“Yes, yes; I recollect her now. Does she live with 
this grandmother?” 

“ Yes, sir, they two alone; and while the girl’s at work 
there’s no one to mind the old woman. She had a fib 
this morning since Patty came up here. It was a wonder 
she was not burnt to death, for Mrs. Marks found her 
lying across the fender.” 

“Dear, dear! What trouble these work-people always 
seem to be getting into. Yes, of course, have her taken 
to the hospital at once,” and he wrote an order while he 
spoke, “Let the girl know, and give her leave for a few 
hours. I daresay I may look in myself in the course of 
the day.” 

The only uncertainty in the Arundale factory was Max 
Schippheim’s movements, which were purposely erratic, 
and always gave the idea that he was constantly on the 
look-out for inattention or incapability. 

Having dismissed Andrews, he followed M. Brumeau, 
who had already gone into the pain ting- room, and, look- 
ing round him, had taken in at a glance the style of the 
work that was going on. He agreed with Lady Muriel 
that it was cramped, and, as far as he could see from a 
mere superficial glance, very much wanting in originality. 

By the time Mr, Schippheim had joined him he had 
snatched the brush out of the hand of a man who was 
daubing a somewhat wooden representation of “ La Chasse 
de Diane ” on a large plateau that had been ordered as a 
mantel ornament for a country house, and with two or 
three touches he gave a fire and vigor to the lifeless scene, 
which the artist engaged on it, with all the perseverance 
he possessed, would not have imparted for a century. Mr. 
Schippheim stood looking over his shoulder, a highly 
satisfied expression on his frank, open face. Paul 
Brumeau had scored one in the chief’s estimation by the 


22 


LADY MURIEL’S SECRET. 


masterful strokes lie bad drawn that day. He scored his 
second point to the good a little later on, when the work 
of the new designer was shown round the atelier. 

He probably made one or two enemies by letting his 
fellow painters see how superior he was to them all; still, 
not one among them but was compelled to acknowledge 
the fact. 


CHAPTER IV. 

OLD GRANNY. 

‘^Granny very ill and like to die! Oh, God, what 
shall I do?” 

It was Patty’s heart cry when the news of her grand- 
mother having had a fit was broken to her as gently by 
the foreman as a rough but kindly nature knew how. 

She will be well taken care of in the hospital. The 
master says you may go to her at once.” 

“ To the hospital! My granny! Who. sent her there? 
Whatever right had anyone to send my granny to the 
hospital?” 

And why not?” asked the foreman. ‘‘ She will be 
well ” 

But Patty interrupted. 

“ Cos a hospital is only fit for paupers,” she cried, 
‘^and my granny ain’t a pauper. I wonder whatever I 
work and slave in this blessed factory for if it ain’t to 
keep her from want?” 

‘‘ The workers here receive the benefits their position 
gives them without being considered paupers. The hos- 
pital is a place in which only the sick belonging to the 
Arundale manufactory are nursed. It is not a poor- 
house.” 

Patty turned round suddenly wdien she heard these 
words, and found herself face to face with Mr. Schipp- 
heim. It was the first time the master had ever spoken 
to her, and his tone and manner, though kind, awed her 
somewhat, and she dropped her eyes and colored up with- 
out answering. 

Max Schippheim went on. 

“I am sorry, my child, that you should have mistaken 


LADY MUIUEL’S SECKET. 


23 


the nature of the institution which has been formed sole- 
ly to minister to the requirements of those who are ailing. 
Suppose you walk down there now with me and see if 
your grandmother is not very comfortable.” 

“ With you, sir!” and Patty, though she raised her eyes 
and glanced just one moment at Mr. Schippheim, grew 
even more crimson than she was before. 

He saw her confusion and without farther words led 
the way for her to follow him downstairs out of the 
women’s workshop into the street, and many were the 
eyes that looked round in utter surprise as they saw these 
two together. 

“ Wonders is multiplying in Arundale this blazing 
summer time,” said one woman to another, as they stared 
from the upper window of the room Patty had just quitted. 

Yesterday there was the Dale House carriage out o’ the 
Sabbath, and to-d.ay there’s the master walking i’ the 
town wi’ the likes o’ Patty IJrske.” 

Don’t you know Pidty Urske is a wench what apes 
the lady?” answered her companion, with a laugh. 

Do she? Well, I hope she’ll live till that there time 
arrives when she will be a lady.” 

Meantime, very few words were spoken by either Mr. 
Schippheim or Patty as tliey walked along at a brisk pace, 
but it struck the master that she was a very tidy, clean- 
looking girl, of which he was fully aware there were not 
many specimens to be found in Arundale; with all his 
capability of organization, personal tidiness was a virtue 
with which he kad not yet been able to inspire his 
people. 

Whether he thought Patty the prettiest as well as the 
tidiest girl in Arundale was a subject on which he did not 
allow his mind to dwell. 

Arundale was a healthy place, and, with the exception 
of an occasional epidemic among the children, bar acci- 
dents, there was very little illness amongst the popu- 
lation. 

The hospital then was not the very busiest place in Arun- 
dale; and, though it had been built to receive forty in- 
door patients, yet the beds were seldom all full, and some 
of the patients* were occasionally put into separate wards. 
This was the case with old Mrs. Urske, not exactly be- 
(Cause her state required it, or because she was supposed 


24 


LADY MUKIEL’S SECEET. 


to be of a superior class to the others, but to suit the- 
arrangements of the hospital. 

Mr. Schippheim, on inquiring how and where the old 
woman was, was not altogether sorry to find that she had 
been placed alone. He felt a sort of sympathy for the 
mute proud sorrow of the girl by whose side he had 
walked through the streets of Arundale, and he felt that 
it would be some comfort to her to know that her occa- 
sional ministrations by the bedside of her aged relative 
would not be watched by the inquisitive eyes of strangers. 

It was not often that Max Schippheim allowed himself 
to be moved by the trouble and sentiments of those about 
him. He had snubbed his feelings until he had got them 
under absolute control, and was regarded by those in his 
employment as a very just, if a somewhat stern, harsh 
master. 

Had he been asked for an explanation of his conduct at 
that moment, he would have told the querist that he was 
impelled to it by a mere love of psychological study. 
Patty, blunted and rendered cold and hard by the news 
of her grandmother’s sudden indisposition roused his atten- 
tion, and he would fain see to what this somewhat unusual 
bias would tend. 

Query! Would he have been as interested in the analyza- 
tion of this little goldburnisher’s feelings if she had not 
been very beautiful to look at, with her high coloring and 
redundancy of auburn hair. 

Mr. Schippheim did not profess to care for pretty faces, 
still the chances are he was at least averagely influenced 
by them. 

When Patti reached the door of the ward where her 
grandmother was lying, she stopped and leaned for a sec- 
ond or two against the wall, as though she almost dreaded 
to enter. 

Mr. Schippheim took her little well-formed hand stained 
as it was by the work in which she had been engaged, and 
led her forward to the bed. 

Then for the first time did Patty cry out in her deep 
grief as she threw herself on her knees beside her uncon- 
scious grandmother, and burst into a flood of tears. 

Oh, my poor old G-ranny, what shall I make o’ life 
without ye. You have been kind and good to me. and I’ve 
loved you with all my heart— -that I have,” she ejaculated. 




LADY Muriel’s secret. 


25 


between her sobs. ^ As she saw her Granny lying there the 
petty Jars and tiresome temper which had, at times, 
•created discord between them, were alike forgotten. All 
Patty remembered at that moment was that she was about 
to lose her for ever, and that a lonesome path lay before 
her. 

Grief is always selfish, ay is it; if it did not rend our 
own heay;* strings it would cease to be grief. And Patty’s 
were, rent that day as she looked at that flickering well- 
spent life-flame and wondered, as she repeated over and 
over again: — 

‘‘ What will I make o’ life without ye?” 

All her ambitious dreams, for the moment at all events, 
had faded, and before the awesomeness of death she felt 
as helpless as the babe she was when years ago she clung 
to old Granny’s hand to guide her first tottering steps 
across the room. 

Yet old Granny could not have been of much further 
assistance to Patty had she not been called to seek her rest. 
It was only in imagination, fevered by excitement, that 
Patty could have believed in her directing power; still, 
the wrench was none the less real because the actual loss 
Patty would sustain did not exist as completely as she 
•thought for the moment. 

. Who does not know what a dreary waste ground that is 
on which we stand while old associations, old habits, old 
memories are being swept away, and we have not yet 
formed new ties to dve life fresh interest, and in all 
probability, a new complexion and character? 

Patty was standing on the verge of such a desert now. 
She had no one on earth to love but querulous old Granny, 
no future to look forward to but that which she should 
make or mar for herself; and that horizon where the sun 
was faintly rising across the waste was so far ofp that 
Patty’s vision blinded by grief, could scarcely distinguish 
it, as she murmured softly over and over to herself: — 

Not a friend — not a friend in the world but Granny.” 

No, not even when a hand was laid on her shoulder, 
and a voice said in kindly accents: — 

‘‘ Do not fret my girl; you shall never want a friend.” 

Patty looked up and met the soft eyes of Sister Lucy, 
the matron of. the hospital, looking at her from the op- 
posite side of tlie bed. 


26 


LADY MUEIEL’s SECRET. 


But it was not Sister Lucy who had spoken, and Patty 
turned round half bewildered. 

She had entirely forgotten the very existence of Max 
Schippheim. She gazed at him for a second or two with 
an exin-ession of blank wonder, as if asking how he could 
pretend to fill the place of her Granny. Then she turned 
away from him back to her contemplation of all that bed 
contained for her. ^ 

She sat down on it and took the dying woman's hand, 
hardened by toil, and kissed it over and over again, but 
not a ray of recognition did these kisses bring on the 
withered old face. 

Mrs. Urske, as far as anything she seemed to feel or 
know, was already dead, passing slowly but surely through 
the dark valley. 

‘^In less than an hour it will be all over,” Sister Lucy 
said, as she glided across the room from behind Mr. 
Schippheim. 

“ Take care of the girl and let me know what happens,” 
he replied, in the same soft tones. 

But Patty would not allow herself to be taken care of 
in the manner Mr. Schippheim had suggested. 

Some two hours later, when it was indeed all over, and 
the door of the room where Granny lay in her last sleep was 
closed, she refused to be comforted by any words the kind- 
ly sister could offer, and also declined to stay on with them 
in the hospital, which they vainly tried to persuade her 
to do till Mr. Schippheim could be communicated 
with. 

“ She must fend for herself in life now,” she said. 

what good to wait for this person or that? Best begin 
at once as she meant to go along.” 

Altogether her grief seemed to the sisters so much more 
like that of some wild animal than of a rational human 
being that they could not understand her, and felt com- 
pelled to let her do as she liked. 

She left the hospital about four o’clock, when the town 
was the quietest, all the workers being in the factory; and 
sped along to gain her lonely room in the cottage at the 
bottom of the hill. 

She had not proceeded very far before she was stopped 
by a voice saying: — 

‘‘ Patty, lass, don’t eego to that lonesome room. There’s 


LADY MURIEL^S SECEET. 27 

■a homo for ye till ye can turn yerself a bit. Mother will 
only be too glad to do a woman^s friendly part by ye.” 

Joe Marks was coming in search of her. He had thrown 
up his half-day’s work and its pay, to see if he could not 
comfort Patty in her trouble. 

‘Mf slie was happy I know well enow she’d have none of 
me; hut now she’s thrawed, may be I can help her a bit,” 
he had said to himself, when the news reached him that 
Mrs. Urske was dead. He was the second man to-day 
who had spoken to Patty in a friendly voice, and she was 
well nigh as deaf to the one as the other. 

‘‘Not now, Joe, not now,” she said, “may be later 
I’ll come to Mrs. Marks for counsel, but now I must so 
home.” 

“ Home, there all alone! 0, Patty!” 

“ Hush, Joe, don’t contradict me, I must have my way 
to-day. I’m all right; don’t you trouble; thank you all 
the same.” 

She held out her hand to him. He took it and pressed 
it warmly although disappointed that she would accept no 
sympathy. He had no time to tell her so, however, for 
she was gone, gone to brood over her sorrow in solitude, 
leaving Joe to stand there muttering: — 

“Don’t trouble. To think as I can see them pink 
rimmed eyes and that white face and not trouble.” 


CHAPTER V. 

LADY Muriel’s secret. 

Laid out in the Italian style, with bright flowerbeds, 
numberless stucco vases, and figures placed in every avail- 
able position, the gardens at Dale House slope down hill; 
like everything else witliin a radius of three miles, they 
are under the personal supervision of Lady Muriel. She 
is strolling there now, watering-pot in hand, the hot hours 
of the August day having been succeeded by a calm, soft, 
dewy evening. But she is scarcely thinking of the thirsty 
plants which are her usual care at that hour. She is in 
deep conversation with M. Paul Brumeau, who has been 
three weeks at Arundale, and has already begun a new 
epoch in the artistic department. 


28 


LADY MUKIEL’S SECEET. 


He is relating some of liis new experiences, giving Lady 
Muriel many valuable hints about the capabilities and 
state of the people generally, putting power into her hands 
in fact, a power which neither her husband nor Max would 
give her, knowing as they both full'well do know, how 
active she would be in the use of it. 

Yes truly the little French artist will prove a powerful 
ally for Lady Muriel, though it is also Just possible that 
he may, at the same time, be a very troublesome one. 

There are secrets in Lady Muriel’s life which slie would 
not altogether care for M. Paul Brumeau to fathom, and 
from what he has told her of the affairs of others it would 
almost seem that he is a restless ferret, and employs his 
recreation hours, when he is not engrossed by his art, in 
man’s usual amusement, hunting— only in the case of M. 
Brumeau it takes the form of hunting up other people’s 
affairs to such an extent that if he had not been born an 
artist he might well have been a detective. Le petit 
mouchard,” being a sobriquet very freely bestowed on him 
in the great factory he had Just quitted. 

Lady Muriel had taken violently to M. Brumeau, with 
an impetuous keenness which was w-ont to mark her ac- 
tions. She had arranged his rooms for him; found liim a 
thrifty, honest housekeeper; bade him come and dine at 
Dale House when he was bored; undertaken the reforma- 
tion of his toilet; in fact made him utterly and entirely her 
protege. 

Clever woman though she was, she had never calculated 
on what all this sudden intimacy with a little foreigner of 
low origin might entail, or perhaps she reckoned too 
much on her own cleverness, and thought she could throw 
him off like an old glove whenever he gened her or she 
grew tired of wearing him. 

Now, no one either in Arundale or out of it imagined that 
Lady Muriel had married Mr. Alston for love. To look at 
them was quite sufficient to make you think them an ill- 
assorted couple, and when you listened to the kind of 
forced friendliness they indulged in toward each other 
there remained no doubt on your mind that so delicate a 
flower as love had never grown about their path. 

Paul Brumeau, with his sagacity, found this out the 
first evening he was at Dale House, nay more, he dis- 
covered yet another secret, which Lady Muriel would cer- 


LADY MURIEL’S SECRET. 


29 


tainly have preferred him not to possess — a secret which 
she was livinsj calmly in the belief that no one in Arundale 
knew — that she cared for someone who was not her hus- 
band. 

Before her marriage Lady Muriel had loved and been 
beloved by a young soldier whom she did not marry solely 
because, though he had retnote expectations, he was penni- 
less, and Lady Muriel was too heartless to throw away the 
rich position of being Mr. Alston’s wife for the distant 
chance of some day, when they were both very old, hav- 
ing enough money to marry the man she loved, 

That this man was the fair-bearded Christian who passed 
for a soiipirant of Miss Yorke it took Paul Brumeau but 
a few hours to discover, though all the detail of how and 
when, and in what form he and Lady Muriel had met 
naturally entailed a much longer investigation. 

Christian Meyer, a captain in the 130th Foot called 
under the new regulations the Koyal Plowshare Eegi- 
ment, was a nephew of the senior partner, and, therefore 
quite on his own ground during the frequent visits he 
paid to Arundale; that is, he came there whenever he 
could get any leave, invariably residing at Dale House. 
The somewhat ascetic quarters his uncle lived in in the 
factory jarred on the refined senses of this pampered and 
“ curled darling.” 

Although Mr. Alston and Mr. Schippheini were not on 
the very best of terms as partners, yet Mr. Alston never 
objected to Captain Christian’s presence at Arundale. He 
was always called Captain Christian, his uncle having 
started the familiar cognomem when he first got his cap- 
taincy. The reason of this unfailing hospitality on Her- 
bert Alston’s part was that he considered himself under a 
sort of obligation to Christian for having married Lady 
Muriel at all, and though he did not exactly love her he 
was very proud of the connection and the title. In an 
unlucky moment for himself Christian had introduced 
these two people without in the least anticipating what 
would come of the introduction, or how he would be made 
the tool of Lady Muriel, and compelled passively to almost , 
assist a union which, to say the least, placed him in a very 
false position, a position which no man of spirit, having 
a higii sense of honor, would have tolerated for half-an- 
hour. 


30 


LADY MURIEL’S SECRET. 


He had certainly threatened more than once to exchange 
into another regirnent and go abroad for years, absenting 
himself virtually for six months or so at the time of the 
marriage; but, poor moth that he was, he had come back 
to flutter about the flame, and he had fluttered there ever 
since, just keeping his wings at sufficient distance not to 
be burnt. 

Hence Mr. Alston had never found out the truth, and — 

Such a good match for Bertha, wouldn’t it be, Her- 
bert, since old Max is sure to leave all his savings to 
Christian, isn’t he?” 

Savings, yes, and a jolly lot there’ll be. He is the 
stingiest old curmudgeon that ever conducted a business.” 

Wise man, wise man, my dear Herbert; there is noth- 
ing like having money to leave your heirs, especially when 
a man is a bachelor. It would be so selfish to spend it on 
himself; if he had a wife it would be different.” 

“ Hang himself! I’m thinking of the business; he 
never will open out and extend matters. Doesn’t see his 
way clearly, he says.” 

‘‘And fm thinking of Bertha and Christian — so nice 
for them, you see.” 

“Has Christian proposed to Bertha?” 

“No, of course not; how can he till he has the money? 
But I am pretty sure of his sentiments.” 

“Humph! Slippery, I call it,” and Mr. Alston would 
go off, reflecting that lie supposed his wife knew all about 
it, and therefore it was all right. Not once, but many a 
time, did this sort of conversation occur between these 
spouses, the particular one in question having taken place 
on the very day M. Paul Brumeau had made his tirst ap- 
pearance at Arundale. If, however, she hoodwinked her 
husband by these shuffling assertions, she failed utterly to 
deceive Paul Brumeau. And by the time he had been in 
Arundale three weeks he was particularly impressed by 
the manner in which Lady Muriel retained Captain Chris- 
tian as a dangler, and at the same time coolly gave out 
that he was devoted to Bertha. 

On that hot August evening, when Lady Muriel, watQr- 
ing-pot in hand, had gone down into the garden to tend 
some pet plants she never intrusted to the gardener, Paul 
Brumeau had joined her there, more from a love of mis- 
chief than because he had anything definite to say. He 


LADY Muriel’s secret. 


31 


had a suspicion tipit Captain Christian was in the habit 
of wandering by her side at this hour, and he wanted to 
see for himself what was going on. 

He was, however, disappointed; there was no one there, 
and the watering was quickly deposed for a chat with M. 
Brumeau on the idiosyncracies of Arundale generally, 
Lady Muriel even professing to be glad that it had 
occurred to him that he would find her unengaged in the 
evening. 

They had talked so long that it was growing quite dark, 
Lady Muriel still deeply interested in all he had to re- 
late, when suddenly some one sprang over the hedge which 
divided the lower part of the garden from a copse. 

^‘Only think what I have discovered. Now, that old 
fool of an uncle of mine ” 

It was Christian. He stopped, and seemed dismayed 
when he saw that she was alone, but in another second, 
when he saw that her companion was Paul Brumeau, he 
recovered his equilibrium. 

The little French ass can’t understand much En- 
glish, so it does not matter what I say,” he thought as he 
proceeded to finish his original sentence, paying no heed 
to a remark of Lady Muriel that he should not speak dis- 
respectfully of his uncle. 

He is a fool, a perfect fool. Will you believe it, he 
has actually taken up that Urske girl whose grandmother 
died in the hospital a week or two ago.” 

‘‘Nonsense! wdiat utter nonsense, Christian.” 

“ It is as true as the Bible. I met them walking along 
the road about half-a-mile out of the town, only aa hour 
ago. ” 

“ Mr. Schippheim, the senior partner, walking with one 
of the ‘hands’? Eeally, Christian, you must be joking. 
Whatever Mr. Schippheim is he is essentially respectable.” 

“ Respectable or not, I met them, and a nice idiot he 
looked. He colored up when he saw me, as if he had been 
a girl of seventeen.” 

“And what is she like, that Urske girl as you call her?” 

“ Pretty, deuced pretty. Patty Urske is the beauty of 
Arundale. Don’t you know her. Lady Muriel?” 

Lady Muriel shrugged her shoulders and looked angry. 

‘ “ How could she be expected to know all the little 
drabs in Arundale?” she said. 


32 


, ILADY MURIEL’S SECRET. 


Yon do know her, though, by sight, that is to say. 
She is the beauty you admired standing by the door as we 
drove through the town to fetch M. Brumeau from the 
station.” 

‘indeed!” 

And even in the semi-darkness they could see the cir- 
cumflex accent her eyebrows formed. 

She turned to M. Brumeau and informed him in French 
of the facts Christian had just made known to her. 

He laughed at their astonishment — to him it did not 
seem an event of singular strangeness that Mr. Schipp- 
heim should take a walk on a hot summer evening with a 
pretty girl, but then he did not know the senior partner’s 
former habits as well as these people did. 

He made a note in his mind, however, that he would 
watch, and wondered how it was that this episode in 
Arundale life had escaped him. 

If he only understood English better, how much more 
would he be able to ascertain of what was going on; he 
resolved forthwith to conquer the, to him, unmusical and 
difficult language, and Paul Brumeau was not the sort of 
man, when once determined to use his brain, to allow him- 
self to be easily foiled. Moreover, the amount of English 
that is now taught in all the French lycdes and schools 
had given him a very fair start in acquiring the language 
he was resolved to master. 

Thus if he had not learnt this evening anything new on 
the subject which had brought him to Dale House, his 
visit there had, at all events, not been wholly fruitless, 
and having taken a polite leave of Christian and Lady . 
Muriel, he strolled off home to the pretty rooms which 
had been allotted to him in the factory, revolving many 
things in his mind meanwhile, and wondering what this _ 
Patty was like whom Mr. Schippheim deemed worthy of 
his admiration. He even went so far as to go a consider- - 
able distance out of his way in order to pass the cottage in 
which Patty still lived. It was all in darkness, however. ~ 
The good people of Arundale were not wont to sit up late 
at night burning coals and candles; the hours for work at ' 
the factory got them up too early in the morning. 

wonder I have never noticed this little girl since she 
is the belle of Arundale,” he muttered to himself; ‘"‘but, 


LADY MURIEL’S SECRET. 


33 


true, I do not go very frequently into the burnishers’ 
rooms. Ah, tiens^ what is that?” 

Some one was speeding along the road at a vigorous 
pace behind him, stopping short, however, at the cot- 
tage, at the windows of which he still stood gazing in an 
abstracted way. So swift were the movements of the 
individual in question that she came in collision with the 
little artist, who had a very narrow escape of being thrown 
on the ground. 

He tottered, seizing the palings to steady himself, and 
looked eagerly in the face of this somewhat unexpected 
pursuer. 

It was Patty herself, but though Paul Brumeau was 
not positive of this, the gleam of light whith fell on her 
face in the starlit darkness of the summer night told him 
she was beautiful, quite as beautiful as he had been led 
to expect. 

Mademoiselle!” he exclaimed, with a mixture of sur- 
prise and politeness which was essentially French. 

Beg your pardon^ sir, I am sure, but I was in a hurry 
to get liome; and, besides, I thought as there was some 
one a bowling along the road behind me.” 

M. Brumeau did not understand this style of English, 
but he stood gazing at her, in no hurry, apparently to 
depart. 

And while he stood there she could not get to the gate, 
for he was right in front of it. 

Let me pass, if you please,” asked Patty, politely. 

Still he did not budge. 

She began to get angry. For some reason she wanted 
to get into the cottage and shut the door, and this imped- 
iment in her way irritated her. 

h.; Get out of the road,” she cried. ‘‘ What right have 
;you to be sticking here at my gate?” 

■ .The Frenchman, seeing her flashing eyes, which shone 
like two additional stars in the darkness, began a speeeh 
in very broken English, and to emphasize it, he was just 
raising his hand to remove his hat, which was a stiff 
wideawake, when it was thrust violently down on to his 
brows by a blow from behind. 

‘‘Ye little sneaking dirty furrineer! I’ll teach ye to 
molest this yere young woman,” said a man’s voice. 
“TheArundale wenches don’t want no furrineers; they 


34 


LADY Muriel’s secret. 


has lots of English lads who courts ’em ’specially Patty; 
so just ye let her be.” 

“Oh, Joe — this gentleman ” 

“Don’t yon interfere, my girl. Just you go into your 
own room and leave this yere fellow to me.” 

“But, Joe, he has done nothing.” 

“Hasn^t he? Then what was you a running for, as if 
the devil hisself was at your heels; and why, was you a 
ordering him to'get out of the road? Always thought as 
no good would come of it when I heard as a furrineer was 
coming to do the painting.” 

“ Mon cherjeune homme, je vous assure ” 

“ None of your confounded jargon,* if you please,” in- 
terrupted Joe, with dogged insolence. “ If you leave our 
women folk alone, we’ll leave you alone, else you’ll get a 
hottish time of it in Arundale.” 

With that he opened the gate. 

“ You’d best go in, Patty. Why ever do you stand 
staring there?” 

“ ’Cos I choose, I suppose,” she answered, rather pert- 
ly. “ Whatever you mean by interfering with Mounseer, 
I can’t think. You’d best go home and mind your old 
mother.” 

With that she bounced into the house and slammed the 
door. 

Her words had had effect, however; they had taken the 
sting out of Joe, and he did not answer Brumeau, who 
stood there vociferating volubly in his own language for 
some seconds, threatening Joe with every variety of pun- 
ishment for to-night’s interference. 

Not that Joe would have understood one word had he 
been inclined to listen. Even after Mr. Brumeau moved 
off, still muttering as he walked along, Joe remained 
for some time very passive; then he, too, held commune 
with himself. " . 

“And to think as she should talk to me like that. 

* Mind yer old mother;’ which means in course, that she 
don’t want no minding o’ mine. 0, Patty, Patty!” 


35 


LADY Muriel’s secret. 


CHAPTER VI. 

. OKLT PLAYMATIMG. 

The large clock in the quadrangle nad just struck 
, twelve, and all the workers, both male and female, were 
- trooping out of the manufactory hastening home for their 
noontide dinner. 

Patty, in her little scrimpy black frock, with a clean 
linen collar round her well shaped throat, and a neat 
black bonnet sitting lightly on her auburn hair, was 
among the last to come. 

Joe was waiting for her by a little gate through which 
he knew she must pass. 

He had not seen her since he thought fit to.^mash M. 
Brumeau’s- hat over his brows, now two evenings ago, 
ever since which time her last sentence had been rankling 
in hi^ mind. 

She wished him good morning very gently when she 
saw him now, and tried to pass on, but Joe seemed bent 
on having some conversation. 

Taiiv't well, Patty, as you should cut your old friends. 
What have they done as you shouldnT care to chum with 
them no longer P’ 

‘^Hothing, Joe. Who said as I wished to cut them?” 
. and Patty colored up and looked very hot. 

All Arundale is a-saying as you is stuck up, and all 
along o’ the master making much of you. It grieves my 
heart to hear it, Patty, lass. The master is a good, honest 
man, and he’s sorry for the trouble as you’ve had o’ late, 
but his kindness ain’t no kindness at all if it’s going to 
bewilder 3^our pretty head and take ye away from your 
.t own folk.” 

^‘My own folk, indeed! I don’t know what you mean, 
Joe. I haven’t a relation left in Arundale.” 

Friends is sometimes more nor relations, Patty, and 
you ain’t friendless as I know on; and not being friend- 
less I thought I might just say a word or two.” 

“ I suppose you place yourself as first friend, Mr. Joseph 
Marks?” and there was a tone of irony in her voice which 
jarred on the man’s ear. 


36 


LADY MURIEL’S SECRET. 


Tain’t a friend as Vd be to ye, Patty, but a lover and 
a husband if ye’d let me.” 

‘^There’s time enow for me to think of marriage, Joe. 

It ain’t in my thoughts at present if ” 

No, Patty, don’t I know well that it ain’t in yer 
thoughts. It’s full of philandering as yer heart is filled 
for mounseers and such like; but they’ll bring ye to ruin, 
my lass, take my word for it, and I’ll always be truer to- 
yer than any of they would-be gentry folk.” 

^MVhat nonsense you are talking, Joe. What are you 
driving at with your foreign mounseers? I’d never spoken 
to Mounseer Paul till the words you yourself heard, nor 

since till this very morning, when But why should I 

explain to you? you ain’t nothing to me as I knows of.” 

‘‘Haven’t we been sweetheartin’ these eighteen months, 
lass?” 

“Not sweetheartin’ as I knows on, only playmatin’, 
Joe.” 

“ Well, playmatin’, if you like the word better. Then 
can’t you tell your old playmate where you’d been fhat 
there night as I met ye and the mounseer at the cottage 
door?” 

“That’s my secret, Joe, and I can’t tell you nor any 
other. All I will tell you is that I hadn’t been with the 
mounseer. That I’ll give yer my hand on if that’ll con- 
tent ye.” 

“I s’pose it must,” said Joe, looking, however, scarce- 
ly satisfied, while Patty went on — 

“ And since you’re talking of advice, just let me give 
ye one word. I’d make a bit of apology to Mounseer 
Paul if I was you, Joe. He don’t look upon you in the 
most favorable way, and you was wrong to do what you 

“ Apologize— say as I’m sorry? No, that I’m d d 

if I do!” 

And Joe, in his anger, used language which, coming of 
a rough stock though he did, he was too gentle by nature 
to have used before Patty without provocation. 

“Well, it’s for your own good as I’m speaking, Joe., 
Mounseer Paul has a good bit in his power in the factory, 
and I shouldn’t wonder if he was to harm you if yon make 
an enemy of him, which I shrewdly suspect you will if you. 
don’t take care.” 


LADY MUKIEL’S SECRET. 37 

\ 

There’s other factories in the country besides Arun- 
dale. I ain’t tied to this danged place, be I?” 

^‘Oh, if yon mean logo away, Joe, — well, there’s no 
occasion for me to say nothing; but wherever be ye mean- 
ing CO go?” 

“ Nowhere, lass, unless you drive me to it.” 

I have nothing to do with whether yon go or stay.” 

Patty, that’s false, and you know it. Just you give 
me a word of hope, girl, tell me as some day ye’ll put 
yerself and yer happiness in my keeping, and I’ll lie down 
and lick the dust oft that there Frenchman’s shoes if you 
wish it.” 

It was for your own sake, not for mine, as I suggested 
yon should he civil to Mounseer Paul, Joe. I didn’t want 
you to do no licking.” 

“ Then you won’t give me no encouragement, no 
kindly word, Patty?” 

“ Really, Joe, I don’t know what you mean or want. 
I’ve told you as I ain’t thinking of marryin’. Why can’t 
you be a good friend without botherin’ about marriage! 
It. might come some day but I don’t say as it will.”' 

Would it make you sorry, Patty, if I was to go away 
right out of Arundale?” 

‘‘ Why yes, of course it would, Joe.” 

Then, if you wish me to stop. I’ll stop whatever be- 
falls, and if I can be of any use to ye just tell me so; you’ve 
only to say the word, lass, and it’s stay or go, whichever 
you please.” 

I’d sooner have you in Arundale than out of it, Joe, 
but I ain’t going to say ‘ Stay’ if it binds me to be more 
to you than I am at this moment.” 

‘'All right, lass, you shall be free, only promise^ that if 
there’s anv difficulty, any thorns and brambles in your 
path, you’ll come to me to level ’em down.” 

“Yes, Joe, and gladly, and having settled that I must 
go, or I sha’n’t have time to get my dinner before the bell 
rings.” 

So saying Patty tripped away much more light-hearted 
than poor Joe was, though he was thankful, too, for the 
crumbs she had thrown him, and looked upon it as no 
mean advantage gained to be permitted to watch her on- 
ward course, and' occasionally to kick the rough bits out 
of her life. 


38 


LADY Muriel’s secret. 

Considering how very recently old Mrs. Urske had died, 
and how Patty had bewailed her loss and dreaded her own 
loneliness, she had very speedily given up the contem- 
plation of the double event, for when she got home after 
her conversation with Joe, and, taking oil her bonnet, ran 
her fingers through her fluffy hair, she looked the very 
picture of content and satisfaction. She got her dinner 
out of a cupboard by the fireplace, and setting it on a 
table near the window, began to eat it while she watched 
the passers-by. 

‘‘ Marry Joe!” she muttered to herself, meanwhile, no, 
I don’t think as I shall ever marry Joe,” and she put 
down her fork and looked at her left hand. Wonder if 
them lines be true, ^ long life and a good marriage;’ that’s 
what the gipsy as was here last fair time told me. Now 
Joe wouldn’t be a good marriage, quite the contrary, 
though he is a good creature, just the sort to depend on 
and make a friend of. I sha’n’t have no luck in life if I 
don’t keep friends with Joe. Fancy his talking of going 
right away; he won’t now, though, I’m thinking. Oh my 
stars, whoever is that coming in at the gate! Lady Muriel 
and Miss Yorke — well to be sure, who can they be want- 
ing!” 

^‘Does Patty Urske live here!” asks Lady Muriel’s 
voice of a woman standing at the door. 

‘‘ Lor’ bless us, it’s me they want,” and instinctively 
Patty’s hands smoothed her hair, while some one from 
the outside opened the door to admit her visitors. Patty 
dropped a little courtesy and looked very demure. 

You are Patty Urske, I think. May we come in for 
a moment?” 

^‘Certainly, my lady, and welcome, but please excuse 
the room; it is very untidy; it has never been nothing since 
my old Granny died; slie was that particular.” 

I suppose, engaged as you are at the factory, you have 
no time to keep the place tidy.” 

“ Tain’t that, your ladyship, I used to do it for Granny; 
sui>pose it is I haven’t the lieart to do it for myself.” 

You have no father or mother?” 

^^No, my lady.” 

^^Nor brother or sister?” 

‘^No, my lady.” 

And you live here quite alone?” 


LADY MUKIEL'S SKCKET. 


39 


Yes, ray lady.” 

‘‘But do you think it is quite nice and discreet, for a 
young girl like you to live all alone?” 

“Don’t know what you mean, my lady, I ain’t got no 
kith nor kin, and I can’t make ’em.” 

“ But you might live with some woman who would look 
after you.” 

“ Poor folk don’t want no looking after; they can take 
care of tjiemselves.” , 

“ How old are you?” 

“Nineteen, ray lady.” 

“ Only nineteen ! If I were you, Patty, I would arrange 
to live with someone, old Mrs. Marks for instance; it 
would be far more respectable and proper.” 

“ Please, my lady, I’d rather not — as long as I can pay 
my way and keep this small room, I’d as lief stay in it.” 

“ But it is very wrong and gives rise to scandal. I really 
cannot countenance it. Do you know you are already 
being talked of?” 

“ Whoever has been talking, and what have they got to 
say?” cried Patty, firing up; “it ain’t Joe Marks as has 
been talking, is it, my lady?” 

“ I never spoke to Joe Marks in my life, nor is the 
gossip altogether about hirh, but the account of a very 
unpleasant little affair that took place at your gate two 
nights ago has reached me, and considering the interest I 
take in everything connected with Arundale I thought I 
would speak with yourself on the subject,” 

“It ain’t nothing to do with me. It was all the fault 
of the furrineer; he was standing agen the gate, and I 
couldn’t get past. Joe thought as he was molesting me, 
and had a mind to lynch him; but it was all a mistake, 
my lady and Joe has promised me this very day as he’ll 
make an apology to Mounseer Paul.” 

“I should doubt if he will accept it, only I know him 
to be a very good-natured man. But that is not the point. 
This sort of thing must not occur again, or Arundale, re- 
nowned for the respectability of its inhabitants, will get 
into bad repute. If you were living in a proper way, 
with some female friend, men would not dare to molest 
you; it is only because you are unprotected that they do 
not leave you alone.” 


40 


LADY MURIEL’S SECRET. 


think as I have a pretty good protector in Joe/’ said 
Patty, with a sly smile. 

^‘ That is not at all the sort of thing that can be toler- 
ated, girl — that will bring disgrace on yon; it is nothing 
to be ])roud of. Are you going to marry Joe?” 

“No, my lady; I have no such intention. He’s more 
like my brotherji as it were,” 

“ Such being the case, it would suit admirably for you 
to have a tome with Mrs. Marks. She’s quite willing, I 
believe.” 

“ But, please, my lady, I would rather not go. I’m best 
here by myself. Mrs. Marks and me would never get on.” 

“AVell, Patty, you are a very foolish girl; if you go and 
live quietly with the Marks, and keep yourself respect- 
able, there’s no saying what I may do for you. I daresay, 
notwithstanding your denying it, that you will one day 
marry Joe, and I will help you to the yery uttermost.” 

“Thank you,” said Patty, yery shortly, no more; what 
she thought was — “Marry Joe, and be patronized bvTjady 
Muriel! No, no; that ain’t at all the fulfillment of my 
dreams, nor yet the plan by which I mean to work out my 

Lady Muriel eyidently saw a refusal in her flashing 
eyes, for she said — 

“ Of course I cannot force you or ask you to obey me in 
this matter. lean only advise and suggest that for your 
own sake you should agree to my wishes.” 

“ I’ll think about it,” said Patty, with much less polite- 
ness than she had displayed during tlie earlier part of the 
interview. I’ll think about going somewhere else; but I 
don’t suppose-I shall go to iMarks’s.” 

“When do you think you will have made up your 
mind?” 

“ P'r’aps this afternoon, p’r’aps to-morrow.” 

“ Poor Patty! Doubtless it is a trouble to yon to leave 
the place where you used to live with your grandmother?” 

It was Bertha Yorke wdio said this, very gently laying 
her hand on the girl's shoulder; and Patty did not attempt 
to resent, as she usually did resent, pity or what she con- 
sidered any undue amount of interest. There was some- 
thing graceful and sweet and refined about Bertha that 
had always attracted Patty when she saw her go by, and 
she felt she would like to haye this pretty young lady for 


LADY MURIEL’S SECRET. 


41 

a friend. She bad never spoken to her before, nor indeed, 
to Lady Muriel, but while the charm of the one woman 
seemed to increase by proximity, that of the other was 
entirely dispelled. 

‘‘ And lady thougli Miss Yorke be, she ain’t so well off 
as I am in life if she has to bide always with her, for I’m 
much mistaken if she isn’t a Tartar,” was the conclusion 
Patty arrived at after they had taken their departure, 
which they did a little later, Patty having promised she 
would give the matter every consideration. 

“ And to think of her catechising me like that! Marry 
Joe and be dependent on her — not if I know it. I’ve got 
a better friend than she would ever be. She hasn’t found 
that out. Don’t know as the master has promised to 
look after me. She’ll be for grudging me that next.” 

And Patty, without finishing her still half -eaten dinner, 
ran off back to the factory, where the bell was al- 
ready ringing. 

She was entirely mistaken, however, in the view she 
had taken of Lady Muriel’s knowledge, but how could 
Patty, acute girl, though she was, be any match in 
diplomacy for this clever woman of the world? 

She was far too honest herself for it to occur to her that 
Lady MurieJ could almost have counted the times she hud 
met Mr. Schippheim, even if she was not also aware of all 
that had been said during these meetings. Her object was, 
if possible, to get Patty into her power without letting the 
girl suspect she had any special reason for doing so. 

Patty, however, had determined to do nothing without 
first consulting Mr. Schippheim. 

‘‘He was the master,” she argued, and it was with this 
object that she had deferred giving any definite answer 
till the following day. 



CHAPTER VII. 

ONLY BERTHA, ^ 

■ . Bertha Yorke’s position at Dale House was an anoma- 
lous one, and one which the world in general did not un- 
derstand. 

“ She was a poor relation of Lady Muriel’s, kept there as 
a companion and soiiffre-dotdeur, solely out of charity,” 


42 


LADY MUEIEL’S SECEET. 


SO people whispered, beneath their breaths; not the 
Arundale people, but those connected with Lady Muriers 
own world. 

No one contradicted them or offered any explanation, 
probably because the rumors which were afloat failed to 
reach the very individuals who were the most interested in 
hearing them. Bertha Yorke was an orphan, i>erhaps 
that was why she felt such a friendly interest in Patty; 
but she was not a poor relation. 

Her father had left her ten thousand pounds when he 
died some two years previously, left it entirely in the hands 
of Herbert Alston, who was appointed her guardian till 
she became of age. 

Bertha was fifteen when her father died, and she had at 
once gone to live with Lady Muriel. She was just good- 
looking enough to be interesting to some people, but just 
plain enough to serve as a foil to Lady Muriel, witn whose 
symmetry of form and majesty of manner she could in no 
way compete; and it probably arose from the fact of her 
looking up to Lady Muriel as though she were some ex- 
alted personage belonging to another sphere that gave 
everyone the idea that she subsisted on the Alston’s 

charity. 

Poor little Bertha! she certainly never put herself for- 
ward in the very least; she was always getting away into 
corners and trying to be neither seen nor heard, princi- 
pally because she was very shy and-was always afraid some 
one would speak to her. 

None of the visitors at Dale House, however, troubled 
her much. Lady Muriel’s somewhat deteriorating appella- 
tion of ‘^only Bertha” not being a particularly encourag- 
ing one. If some of the people would have taken the 
trouble to inquire for themselves they might perhaps have 
been a little astonished at the depth of feeling that quiet 
little person possessed and the amount of mental power 
‘^only Bertha” was each day cultivating more and more. 
Hven Lady Muriel did not understand Bertha, partly be- 
cause she did not give herself the trouble to do so, but 
principally because Bertlia never unfolded before Lady 
Muriel, who would dismiss the subject when questioned 
about her i)rotegm^s capabilities by saying — 

Oh, she is a quiet little shy mousey fool of ordinary 


LADY MURIEL'S SECRET. 


43 


intelligence; bat she is devoted to me, would go through 
fire and water to serve me.’’ 

Did Lady Muriel love her? Yes, after her fashion, as 
much as she could love anything beyond her own interest. 
The girl was sympathetic to her, tind helped her in many 
ways, being always pleased with an opportunity of making 
herself useful to Lady Muriel, for whom she had a sort of 
mute devotion. Whatever domestic or social duty was in- 
trusted to Bertha, she always tried to carry it out in a 
manner which she thought would please Lady Muriel, and 
be the most in accordance with her own system. 

Lady Muriel was ajways«the first person in Bertha’s 
thoughts. Will cousin Muriel like it? What will cousin 
Muriel say?” carrying the almost abject homage to a de- 
gree which would have somewhat bored her ideal if she had 
not been a woman who, always seeking to govern others, 
encouraged an unlimited amount of deference in return. 

She did not, perhaps, in her heart respect Bertlia any 
the more for this sort of dog-like fidelity; she really pre- 
ferred people who ran alone and exhibited more spirit 
than Bertha had hitherto shown — that is, she admired 
their characters, though perhaps they did not altogether 
suit her purpose the best. 

Bertha was just the sort of girl,” she was wont to 
'Say, that you could get on well with,” 

But Bertha, at seventeen, was slowly developing, and it 
was very certain her character was as yet unfathomed by 
those about her. 

Christian Meyer would be a good match for her some 
day when she was older. Lady Muriel had told her more 
than once, and the idea was by no means distasteful to 
Bertha. 

Of course,” Lady Muriel would add, there is time 
enough. You cannot have your own money till you are 
twenty-one, and Christian would be foolish to pledge him- 
self until he gets the promise of an allowance from his 
uncle.” 

But you think he really cares for me, cousin Muriel?” 

Cares for ^u, child, what a silly question. Why is 
he always here if he does not care for you?” 

And after these snatches of talk Bertha would go away 
into some out-of-the-way corner of the garden or up in 


44 


LADY MURIEL’S SECRET, 


the solitude of her own room, to ponder over the happy 
day, still some time distant, when she would be Christian’s 
wife — Christian whom she revered with an intensity only 
second to that she bestowed on Lady Muriel herself, and 
loved, oh, yes, she loved him far more. She loved him as 
a young, ardent, trusting nature loves when the heart is 
first awakened to the tender passion. Whether Christian 
knew aught of the strong affection Bertha entertained for 
him, it were difficult to say; certain it is he had never 
asked her to love him; he had been mevely aux petits soins 
with her in a flirtatious way, as a man may with a hun- 
dred pretty girls. It was Lahy Muriel who had lighted 
the flame in Bertha’s heart; it was Lady Muriel who by 
an occasional allusion sought to keep it just faintly ignited, 
without guessing in the least how deeply it was smolder- 
ing underneath, or what a volcanic eruption she was per- 
haps bringing about for some future day. 

That Christian passed a great deal of time in attendance 
on Lady Muriel did not make Bertha jealous in the very 
least. 

If Lady Muriel had been an unmarried girl it might 
have been different, but she was far too simple-mindeff to 
augur danger from a married woman, and above all, that 
married woman being her divinity. Lady Muriel. 

Since M. Brumeau came, there had been far too much 
pressure on the domestic atmosphere to admit of any talk 
on the subject of Christian’s love for Bertha, but the ami- 
able relations which ever existed between them remained 
unchanged, and — owing to. Lady Muriel’s time being a 
good deal taken up by her hobby — they were necessarily 
thrown more together than usual. Bertha was very well 
content, and looked quite happy and blooming, even pretty, 
in her daintily-made pink or blue cotton frock, with her 
mousey hair neatly braided off her brow and plaited up in 
large coils on the nape of her neck. The severely classical 
style of her ideal precluded all possibility of a fringe. 
Bertha, of course, therefore abjured fluffy "hair, and ex- 
pended much time in brushing and coaxing to keep her 
naturally rebellious locks in proper subjection. If Lady 
Muriel had said what her artist’s eye had told her was the 
truth, she would have bade the girl let her hair bend and 
curl as it liked, since by picturesqueness alone would little 
insignificant Bertha make any mark in the world of beauty. 


LADY MUKIEL's SECKET. 


45 


But she was only Bertha,’^ good as gold, but very plain; 
it did. not matter how much she dressed or what she did. , 
If Bertlia was somewhat slighted at Dale House, she 
was looked upon as an angel by the people in the factory. 
There was never a case of sickness or trouble in which 
Bertha was not in some way instrumental in helping or 
advising the sufferer, and if she had never gone near 
Patty Urske till the day she was taken there by Lady 
Muriel, it was because Mr. Schippheim would notallow the 
ladies at the house to interfere with his hospital, and since 
old Mrs. Urske^s death Bertha had received orders from 
her commander, Lady Muriel, not to go and call on Patty 
without her. Lady Muriel had a mind to see for herself 
what this beauty was like that she had noticed by the cot- 
tage door, only other events had put Patty more or less 
out of lier mind till she was forcibly brought before her 
notice by Christian’s observations about his uncle and the 
subsequent account of the fracas by the gate. 

That Patty was an objectionable addition to the Arim- 
dale workers Lady Muriel had decided when she first 
caught a glimpse of her that Sunday afternoon; for Lady 
Muriel, grande dame though she was, was jealous of every 
pretty face, even though the gift of beauty had been be- 
stowed on one in all seeming so utterly out of her life as a 
T)dor work girl. When she had had a little conveisatioii 
with patty she was more inclined than ever to mark lier 

dangerous,” especially since she had been told that Mr. 

Schippheim elected to patronize her. • , , 

She is a pert hussy,” she said to Bertha as they toiled 
np the hill to the house, their visit being over. “ I think 
vou had better not go there, Bertha, without me; an im- 
pertinent girl like that may be very rude to you. 

“I am not afraid of her, cousin Muriel, and perhaps X 
mio'ht be able to humanize her a little. She is not the 
firsi; of the Arundale people I have got an influence over. 
Pll go if you wish it.” 

‘‘ Humph!” said Lady Muriel, as she remained lost in 

thought for a few minutes. r. . ^ 

The result of her cogitations was to the efl;ect that; 
Bertha was to go and see Patty, And out all she could 
about her, and report it to Lady Muriel. She did not put 
this in plain language, because there was a quiet loyalty, 
^.about Bertha which Lady Muriel respected without even 


46 


LADY MURIEL’S SECRET. 


quite knowing it. That loyalty she more than half sus-^ 
pected would have made Bertha resent being sent as a 
spy even on lowly Patty, and Lady Muriel did not wish 
to lose one shred of Bertha’s high esteem. She merely 
told her, as she habitually did, what she wished her to 
do, without giving her any reasons or even hinting at 
what she believed would be the result of her doings. 

Having got leave to” visit Patty, Bertha looked quite 
radiant. She had taken a great fancy to the lonely girl, 
and she resolved forthwith to make a humble friend of 
her. If there were hard strong bits in Patty’s character, 
Bertha trusted that by means of gentleness and soft words 
she might be enabled to smooth them down. 

This was not exactly what Lady Muriel wanted. She 
wanted an eye kept on Patty in case of future mischief, 
but she generally looked on Bertha’s sketchy schemes for 
moral reform as the mere harmless crotchets of a visionary, 
and so troubled herself very little about them. 

Just as this subject was settled so far, and they were 
quite near home, the two ladies were overtaken by some 
one. 

Good gracious, Mr. Schippheim, you up here at this 
hour,^’ cried Lady Muriel, in some surprise. 

You think I ought always to have my nose well to tha 
-grindstone, I suppose, and there is no work to be done so 
near Dale House. You are mistaken for once. Lady 
Muriel.” 

How so?” 

I am going to have a new painting room built on the 
ridge yonder. The light will be so good. I have been 
choosing the ground.” 

Why did you not ask me to come?” 

Because 1 thought you were better engaged, and that 
I could manage the affair with the assistance of M. Bru- 
nieau. And now, having given an account of my actions, 
pray tell me where you and Miss Bertha have been, since I 
find you toiling in the sun up from Arundale this hot 
morning.” 

Lady Muriel cast a silencing glance on Bertha, the 
meaning of which the girl in no wise understood, and said 
quickly — 

'‘Only seeing one or two of our poor neighbors and 
buying some ribbon for a sash for Eric. My brother and 


LADY MURIEL’S SECRET, 


47 


his wife, tiie Aiichinlees, are coming to-morrow, you 
know. You’ll come and dine, won’t you?” 

Lord and Lady Aucliinlee are much too grand folk 
for me. I never know what to say when I am in that sort 
of society.” 

“ What nonsense, Mr. Schippheiml” 

‘^It is quite true my dear lady. I am a man of a cer- 
tain amount of means, gained, I hope, by honest labor; 
but I came of the people, and to the people I still belong. 

I am not one of those who care for a mixture of classes.” 

‘‘ I suppose you think Herbert made a mistake when he 
married me, or I made a mistake when I married him, 
which was it, Mr. Schippheim?” 

I should not attempt to give any opinion on such a 
subject. Folk are the best judges for themselves in such 
lUcittors 

“But you gave your sister’s son, Christian Meyer, a 
good education, you put him in the army, and made a 
gentleman of him.” 

“ I do not consider that I have any right to keep an- 
other man down because I do not care to rise. Christian 
wished to go into the arpiy, so he went. He hate.l pots 
and pans, he said; if he had liked them he wmiild have 
been a rich man by this time; now, he is a poor one, that 
is all the difference.” . 

At this mention of Christian, Bertha grew crimson, but 
no one took any notice of it. The idea of Chiistian mai- 
rying Bertha had never reached Max Schippheim; per- 
haps he was too clever to believe in it though his seeming 
'I blindness was always ascribed to the supposition that such 

thing as a love affair was quite beyond the limits of his 
understanding. 

“ Then you mean positively that you refuse to come 
and meet the Aiichinlees?” 

“ Positively, no; but I would rather not. 

“You would rather meet some factory hands, I sup- 
pose,” and Lady Muriel looked more than a little spiteful. 

He fixed his eye on her somewhat inquiringly for a 
second; then he answered— _ 

“I do not understand your meaning; if i habitually 
^associated with my work people they would scarcely re- 
speot me as a master. It would bo a grievous mistake. 

The cool logic of this reply irritated Lady xMuriel, but 


48 


LADY MURIEL’S SECRET. 


she would not allow herself to be tempted into saying what 
she would afterward regret, so she changed tlie subject 
with adroitness, by saying — 

‘‘ Well, come in to luncheon now you are up so far, and 
taste some Eudesheimer that was sent to Herbert as a 
present the other day.” 

To refuse another invitation. Max felt would be un- 
gracious, and though he seldom eat luncheon, yet he ac- 
companied them to the house, where Cliristian was, as 
usual, lounging, book in hand, under the veranda. 

He jumped up when he saw the trio, not altogether de- 
lighted at a meeting with his uncle, who was usually 
pretty severe on Christian’s shortenings. 

Mr. Schippheim did not, however, seem inclined to take 
any particular notice of him that morning, but walked off 
wilh Bertha to look at some rose trees he had himself 
brouglit her from France a few months previously. 

Bertha, though she was patrician-born, was a great 
favorite with Max Schipplieim. 

Meanwhile Lady Muriel whispered to Christain — 

“It is my belief old Max is quite mad. Every word is 
true about that girl; he does encourage her, I feel sure of 
it, and if we don’t take stringent measures to stop it, there 
is no saying what will happen.” 


CHAPTER VIII. 

HARD WORDS. 

Patty sat down to her work that hot August afternoon 
in anything but a contented and patient frame of mind. 
Her independent spirit rebelled against interference. 

“ Great ladies should mind tlieir own business,” she 
repeated over and over again, mentally. “I would if I 
was a great lady. What right has Lady Muriel to come 
meddling with my affairs? I sha’n't go and live with 
Mrs. Marks. Joe is well enough and easy to manage, but 
Mrs. Marks — no. I’ll leave Arundale first.” 

And the thought of leaving Arundale taking her by 
surprise, as it were, made her flush up and look so hot all 
of a sudden that the woman working next her, catching ' 
sight of her countenance for a minute, asked what was 
the matter. 


LADY Muriel’s secret. 


49 


Patty did not vouchsafe a reply, but to her neighbor's 
mind, bent on discovery, her red face was explained by 
the appearance at that moment of M. Brumeau at the 
door; the truth, iiowever, being that Patty had not even 
perceived him. She was too much engrossed in the con- 
templation of her own individual history. 

AVhat I'e came in there for no one could imagine. The 
chief designer had nothing in common with these mere 
macliines there assembled, and had never been seen in 
that room before; but then everything was changed at 
Arundale of late, ever since this “furrineer” had come. 

He did not address anyone in particular, but making 
the tour of tlie room he examined the work on which 
each Mmman was engaged, reaching Patty’s place last of 
all. 

It was a most unusual proceeding, Mr. Andrews, the 
foreman, being the functionary they all regarded as 
master after Mr. Schippheim, and every woman in the 
room left off her work to look round and wonder, while 
whispers of ^MVhat does it mean?” had culminated into 
a buzz bv tlie time Paul Brumeau had reached the end of 
the long table where Patty was sitting. 

Arrived there, he leant over her shoulder to look at her 
work, as he had leant over the others, and while he was 
in this position he made some remark in a very low tone, 
which no one heard but herself. 

Wliile M. Brumeau had been slowly making the circuit 
of the table, Patty, to whom his presence or absence was 
perfectly indifferent, had recovered her usual calm aspect. 
When she heard whatever it was that in liis broken En- 
glish he had to communicate to her, a crimson flush once 
more rushed over her face, dying even her white neck 
with its blood-red hue. Hot a “hand ” in that room but 
" saw it, and each one drew her own conclusion according 
as she esteemed Patty more or less highly. Wliether Paul 
Brumeau had done this solely to compromise Patty, he 
himself only knew: if so he did not stay to reap the re- 
ward of his intrigue by reading the faces of those around, 
nor did he even wait for any answer from Patty, but pass- 
ing quickly on, disappeared through a side door. 

Then followed a perfect chorus of injurious remarks. 

Well I never! To think as you’re carryin’ on with 

he.” 


LADY MUKIEL'S SECKET. 


50 

Tallin’ np with furrineers, and your poor Granny not 
cold in her grave.” 

Joe shall know this afore to-night.” 

Lor’ bless ye, Joe’s nothing; that’s too respectable for 
Patty. The person to tell is the master.” 

To these and many more such remarks did Patty sit 
listening with wide open eyes, the hot blood still mantling 
her brow, too bewildered for awhile to utter any retort. 

It was all so sudden, so unexpected, she could not at 
first comprehend what it meant. At last, however, a 
consciousness of what was really passing seemed to come 
slowly over her, and the pent up words rushed impetuous- 
ly forth. 

‘‘How dare you talk to me like this? If ye are women 
yerselves ye ought to protect and help me. You know 
well enough that I am straight and honest, and ye ought 
to be ashamed of accusing me.” 

“We don’t know naught about ye,” cried one; “you 
'ain’t Arundale born; how should we?” 

“ Arundale born or not, ye. know as I am of a re- 
spectable people, and that if my Granny was alive you 
wouldn’t dare to speak to me like this. You know as my 
people are better off than your people, and that I’m better 
born than even the best of ye, and that’s why you’re Jealous 
and nasty, I ’spose; but it’s no matter, I can fend my own 
way in life.” 

“Hoity-toity, Patty’s going it. Better nor us. In 
course she thinks herself a lady already. She’ll be going 
in for silks and satins next.” 

“ My stars, you must be a rare virtuous lot to dare to 
— Mrs. Capps too — to speak like that, for everyone knows 
she was ” 

But Patty was interrupted by a very young girl, the 
only person in the room who had not spoken. She laid 
her hand on Patty’s arm and implored her to say no more. 

“ Well, there, you’re right, Elsie Bligh, it’s contamina- 
tion getting into a row like this. Such vermin as is in 
this room ain’t worth it.” 

‘* Look here, Patty Hrske, you’d best mind what you’re 
saying,” and one of the women, a virago of about forty, 
got up, and standing with her arms akimbo, was- evidently 
quite prepared fora fight. 

Elsie Bligh, however, came once more to the rescue. 


LADY MURIEI/S SECRET. 


51 


“ Run away Patty; there’s the quadrangle bell a ring- 
ing; you’d best go home and leave these hard names to 
cool.” 

Patty, though her temper had considerably got the 
better of her, had still enough sense left to see the wisdom 
of this advice. She had also the pluck to follow it, no 
moderate amount being required, since invectives hot and 
strong were hurled at her from all sides, and to a girl of 
Patty’s violent character it required no little self control 
not to retort angrily. 

Resolving to conquer herself, however, and half pushed 
out of the room by Elsie Bligh, she went quickly down 
the stairs into the quadrangle, and speeding across it so 
swiftly that several workmen loitering there looked round 
to ask of each other what ailed her, she ran home as 
though by rapid motion she would, if possible, shut out 
from her ears all the unpleasant words and recollections of 
that day. When she at last reached her solitary home, 
and the feeling suddenly came upon her that there was no 
one there to sympathize with her and care for her in her 
trouble, as old Granny, in spite of her cross ways, would 
have done, she broke down utterly, and throwing herself 
on her little bed, which stood in the corner, she burst 
into a flood of wild and passionate’ weeping. 

At last, however, pent up feeling having found a pas- 
sage in tears, she became to an extent, exhausted, and 
Patty sat up and looked about her, with her large, wild, 
swollen eyes. 

‘‘ What have I done that I should be treated thus!” she 
asked, ‘‘all along o’ that horrid little Mounseer too. I 
wish he was ducked in a pond, I do, and if Joe had the 
spirit of a fly, he’d duck him: but then Joe is like that — 
he’s all words and no acts.” 

She forgot, with woman’s usual illogic, that Joe had 
got himself into difiiculties only two days before for tam- 
pering with the person of tlie very identical little French- 
man in question* 

“ I won’t stand it. Pll do something, if it’s to drown 
myself,” and with that she jumped off the bed, and toss- 
ing her luxuriance of dark hair over her shoulders, began 
to walk up and down the room excitedly. 

Half-an-hour passed and no one came near her, Elsie 


52 


LADY Muriel’s secret. 


Bligh passed the window twice. She would have much 
liked to go in and comfort Patty. 

Elsie wanted to warn Patty that she had best give in, 
and put up with whatever indignities her fellow-workers 
heaped upon her, unless she wished to suffer even more 
severely at their hands in the ‘^Long Eoom.” 

Oh, if she only dared to go in! 

She had arrived at the gate for the third time, and was 
just summoning up sufficient courage to open it, enter 
boldly, and say her little say, when a hand was laid on 
her shoulder, and turning round she looked straight into 
the friendly eyes of the senior partner. 

‘‘Is Patty Urske within? I believe this is the cottage 
where she lives?” he asked, for Max Shippheim, though 
he had been so kind to Patty as to bring down a certain 
amount of scandal on her name, had never yet gone him- 
self to her abode. 

“ Yes, sir, please, I think she is there; but she wasn’t 
to blame, sir, indeed she wasn’t,” cried Elsie, in a Yoice 
trembling with fright. 

Mr. Schippheim looked at her very kindly, with a half- 
smile that evidently encouraged her, for she went on — 

“ You won’t be hard on Patty, will you, sir? for she’s 
that unhappy withoutdier old Granny.” 

“ We shall see, we shall see; I can’t make any promises, 
child, till I have heard what Patty has to say for herself. 
A disturbance like this in the factory is a grave offense.” 

So saying, he passed on through the gate into the house, 
from which Patty had already seen him through the 
■window. 

He knocked loudly at the door, and asked for Patty 
TJrske in a stentorian voice. Whatever evil tongues 
might say, It was evident that this visit from the master 
was to be no private one. Patty threw open the door and 
met him in the passage; her hair, which she had not had 
time to fasten up, was still almost clothing her as it hung 
in masses far below her waist. 

“ You wish to speak to me, sir!” 

“ Yes, Patty, I want to know what is the meaning of 
all this I have heard. Just come and talk to me here for 
a few minutes.” 

“ Won’t you come in, sir?” 

“ No, no, it is not at all necessary.” 


LADY MURIEL’S SECRET. 


63 


My kitchen is at your service, sir. Maybe it’s tidier 
than Patty’s room now Mrs. Urske is gone,” said an old 
Avoman who lived at the back, and who had come out on 
hearing the master’s voice. 

Thank you, Mrs. Green.” 

Max Schippheim had almost a royal capacity for re- 
membering the names and faces of all his people. “ Thunk 
you. I just want to speak to Patty Urske for a minute, ’•* 
and he led the way to the back kitchen. 

‘‘Now, then, Patty, what does it all mean?” he asked, / 
the door being closed. “You seem so miserable and 
strange that I suppose there has been no exaggeration?” 

Patty looked sheepish; it was rather difficult for her to 
have to explain exactly what had happened to hirtiy but 
she said — 

“There ain’t been any exaggeration, I think; leastwise, . 
it don’t seem possible.” 

“ Then you have been creating a disturbance in the 
^ Long Room,’ and quarreling with all the other women, 
although you know I particularly object to the sort 
of thi!ig. "Patty, I had believed better things of you.” 

j\Ie — me make a disturbance! so that’s what they say 
— harpies! Don’t believe ’em, please, sir; I only defended 
myself while they set on me.” 

And why did they set on you?” 

Patty colored up and stammered — 

“’Tain’t easy to say, sir; because — because — they hate 
me, I suppose.” 

“Nonsense, Patty, there must have been some direct 
oause for the commencement of this affray; what was i^?” ^ 

“It was along of Mounseer,” said Patty, looking dovVn. ‘ 
“ They said as he was making up to me, and it ain’t a 
bit true, for I hate him.” 

Max Schippheim’s eyebrows, which were very heavy and 
shasfgy, lowered perceptibly. 

““This is the second time within a few days that your' 
name has been mixed with M. Drumeau’s in a disreputa- 
ble occurrence. 

“ It isn’t my fault, sir, indeed it isn’t. I hate him — 
should never like to see him again. I’ve never spoken to 
him but twice, the other night at the gate when I asked 
him to let me pass, and this morning in the ‘ Long Room,’ 


54 


LADY MURIEL'S SECRET. 

when he whispered something as he'd no right to whimper 
in my ear as he passed." 

What was it?" 

^‘Please, sir. I'd rather not say, but if it wasn't a bad 
act, I’d like to kill this foreign Mounseer, and wish, with 
all mv heart, that either he or I was out of Arundale." 

^‘I am sorry, very sorry, to hear all this, child. I had 
hoped that you would be Very happy at Arundale." 

‘SSo I might, sir, if folks would let me alone.” 

Yes. I am the more sorry," he went on, because 
a telegram I received this morning compels me to start ' 
for Germany this very night. It is not probable that I 
shall be absent more than ten days, or a fortnight at 
the outside; still, it is just at a moment when I am 
afraid my absence will not improve matters for you, my 
poor Patty." ■ 

‘‘ I’ll try to get along as best I can, sir, but I'm very 
sorry you're going." 

“1 haven't forgotten your welfare altogether in the 
hurry of my projected departure, and I hope I have secured 
for you a powerful ally." 

Not Lady Muriel; don’t say as it's Lady IMuriel." 

Why not Lady Muriel?" 

'Cause that's part of my trouble; she was here this 
morning, and wants me to go and live at Mavks's, and I 
don’t want to." 

^‘No, no. You are better here in your own place. 
The' ally I have secured for you is not Lady Muriel, but 
Miss Yorke, who has taken a great fancy to you and has 
promised to call and look after you very^often. You can 
tell all your troubles to her quietly, nay, more easily than 
you may to me. Now, good-by, my child. Let me hear 
of no more ^ Long Room ' quarrels when I come back. I 
shall make a point of telling Andrews before I go that if 
there is more of it everyone engaged in the disturbance is 
to be dismissed from the works, and I am sure Mr, Alston 
will indorse my opinion." 

I won't speak one word whatever they say," answered 
Patty, letting her hand linger in the master’s, for he had 
taken it while he was speaking. 

There's a dear, good girl. Good-by. I'll bring you 
something pretty from Munich if I hear a favorable ac- 
count of vou." 


LADY Muriel’s secret. 65 

’Taint bribes as will make me good to you, sir. Don’t 
bring anything, if you please.” 

Ho Wked a little astonished, but he made no reply, 
nnd went into the passage. He turned back, however, for 
a second, and said, putting his head once more into the 
room — 

“Elsie Bligh is a gentle child, who seems kindly dis- 
posed to you; make a friend of her. Good-by, Patty.” 

“God bless you, master.” 


CHAPTER IX. 

BRITON' AND GAUL. 

Mr. Schippheim had gone to Germany at only a few 
hours’ notice; everyone in Arundale seemed to know it, ex- 
cept Lady Muriel; even Bertha had been told and asked 
to look after Patty during his absence. Lady Muriel was 
very angry. 

“He had even lunched there on the best terms a few 
hours before he intended to start, and had not told her. 
What could it mean? Yes, there was some one else he 
had not told— Christian; but that was nothing — he never 
told Christian anything.” 

Such being the state of her ladyship’s feelings, her 
irritation against Patty was by no means mitigated, and 
if she had not been a little bit afraid of Mr. Schippheim 
she would have desired Bertha to have nothing whatever 
to do with the girl; probably in refraining from taking 
this measure she was fully aware that Bertha’s patronage 
without her assistance was scarcely as powerful as Mr. 
Schippheim hoped, especially as Lady Muriel, not haying 
been asked to do otherwise, thought herself quite justified 
in making very slighting remarks about Patty whenever 
the opportunity offered. So much so that Mr. Alston, 
who not being a clever man himself, saw most things 
through his wife’s spectacles, was inclined to think her a 
ne’er-do-weel of a girl, and most seriously to blame her 
for the many disturbances which took place in Arundale; 
for disturbances followed each other thickly and quickly 
after Mr. Schippheim left. Xever had business in Ger- 


56 




LADY MURIEL’S SECRET. 

many called him away at a more inauspicious moment. 
The women continued their rankle against Patty and 
made spiteful remarks at her, which witli all her self-con- 
trol it*\vas very'difficult to swallow without retort, espe- 
cially as she only seemed to have two friends in all Arun- 
dale," Joe Marks and Elsie Bligh. And Joe, she thought, 
was not altogether a very satisfactory friend, since she 
could in nowise give him the love for which he was ever 
craving, and it scarcely seemed a fair thing, decided 
just little Patty, to be always letting this young fellow 
fight her battles for her, and get a good many hard blows, 
without being able to give him one crumb of real, true,, 
honest love in return. 

For Joe, about this period, did get a good many hard 
blows, and showed an amount of manliness in the way he 
parried them which stamped him a real plucky fellow. 

Nearly all the other hands in the factory were down on 
him, especially his friend, Dick Swift, for taking up the 
cudgels for, and sticking to a good-for-nothing girl like 
Patty, who did not care a button whether he lived or died, 
but he went straight on his own way; he had determined 
to befriend her, and whatever people said, he meant to dq, 
it. 

Each day the war waged hotter, the fact being that for 
a long while, a seemingly monotonous calm had reigned 
in Arundale, but it was only in mere seeming that it had 
existed; ill will and ill feeling had been smoldering un- 
derneath; it wanted but a match to set the poisonous 
weeds into a flame — that match was Patty. 

Had Mr. Schippheim been at home he would have dis- 
missed the whole of the workers without delay, being a 
man of enormous mental energy, who always considered 
that the quickest way to remedy an evil was to strike at once 
at the very root. But Mr. Alston, notwithstanding all his 
talk about big schemes, enlarging the business, et cetera, 
et cetera^ was very sluggish in action. He dreaded the 
trouble wrangling with the old hands and engaging a new 
staff would entail. So he put it off from day to day, con- 
tenting himself with hurling a few oaths at powerless An- 
drews and recommending him, as he valued his situation, 
to keep the people quiet. 

If Mr. Alston had only sent Paul Brumeau awav it 
would probably have settled matters — at all events, for a 


\ 


LADY MURIEL’S SECRET. 


57 


time; but tben Paul Brumeau was Lady Muriel’s protege, 
and what would Lady Muriel say? Peace at home was, 
he deemed, more valuable than peace in the facrory. 

Such was the state of affairs when Max Schippheim hav- 
ing been gone a week, there seemed no chance of his re- 
turning for at least another fortnight so he wrote to his 
partner. Patty looked so utterly and hopelessly wretched 
that it was pitiable to behold her, and she would most 
certainly have run away had she not promised the master 
that she would brave annoyance and endure patiently, if 
possible, till his return. 

Bertha had been to see her twice, but what could she 
do, save bestow a few kind words, while Joe was so tor- 
mented by the sight of Patty, who, having lost all her fun 
and bright spirits, was losing her good looks into the bar- 
gain, that he was positively beside himself. He watched 
her about with a sort of dogged fidelity. He could not 
believe that a set of women, evil tongued though they 
might be, could so influence Patty as to change her whole 
nature. 

There must be summat behind as I don’t see,” he 
argued with his logic, and so he set himself to find out 
what it was.. 

As he more than half suspected, it was Paul Brumeau, 

Without making any positive declaration, the little 
Frenchman never lost an opportunity of compromising 
Patty; though, as for Joe, he never took any notice of 
him at all. He had in no way resented the episode at the 
cottage door; it seemed as if he intuitively knew that if 
he wanted thoroughly to punish Joe he must do it through 
Patty, having, however, at the same time conceived that 
sort of animal liking for Patty which in debased natures 
takes the place of love. 

Of the full extent of his persecution, or how by in- 
nuendoes and manifold small attentions he managed to 
keep the voice of scandal clamorous on the subject of 
Patty, Joe was not wholly aware, but he heard quite 
enough to expend what little patience he had left, and he 
resolved that even if he should swing for it he would pun- 
ish this sneaking little French imp. 

At first Joe’s animosity was of a somewhat vague and 
unsettled kind, with little more shape or definite purpose 
than is the rage of a British fighting dog when he sees a 


58 


LADY MUKIEL’S SECRET. 


coDceited and lion-clipped French poodle in possession of 
the pavement at the other side of the street. 

Little by little, and very slowly did the electricity scat- 
tered over the extent of Joe’s horizon settle into one black 
and portentous thunder cloud. We all naturally seek re- 
lief from trouble and sufferipg, so this poor fellow turned 
away from the treatment of liis cold and secretly ambi- 
tious sweetheart and sought to console himself for the loss 
of kisses and love-words, of secret trysts and sweet ca- 
resses, in the indulgence of quite another order of subjects. 

How vastly prime it ’ud be,” he would soliloquize, 
^^to poonch yon curly French pate o" his’n,” and there 
was an inward ring in the unuttered words which was- 
nothing less than voluptuous. 

He would imagine himself doing all kinds of things to 
his enemy, aud then amuse himself by thinking which he 
liked best. Sometimes for a change he would call in 
knives and pistols to these his brain pictures; but this 
was solely to avoid monotony, for Joe was too thorough an 
Englishman ever seriously to contemplate such means of 
aggression, and his mind always stepped back again off 
their cold, cruel, polished surface, so like the glance of a 
traitor, to the more wholesome contemplation of his own 
brawny arms and naked fists. 

But the more he pondered, the more grateful grew 
these ominous reveries, till they became first a habit, then 
a passion; and at last quite an opium eater’s fascination 
for his dreams was developed in Joe regarding them. 
Any disinterested person who had been aware of what was 
going on within him could have told that about this time 
it was a mere question of opportunity that these medita- 
tions should turn to acts, and acts of only too rough and 
solid a kind. Needless to say that the genius who reigns 
over evil thoughts and angry intentions was not slow to 
furnish that occasion without which nothing ever comes 
to anything, and it befell in this wise. 

A few weeks before this date, Joe Marks had rendered 
some trifling service to a comrade, which the obliged one 
had insisted on commemorating then and there with a quart 
of strong ale, in spite of Joe’s manful efforts to convince 
him it was quite unnecessary. 

Seeing, however, that no excuse would betaken in good 
part, he had yielded, though sorely against his will, for 


LADY Muriel’s secret. 


59 


not only was Joe no drinker, never, in fact, taking any- 
thing beyond his moderate modicum of beer at dinner and 
supper time, but he felt that in accepting this poor fel- 
low’s well meant ‘‘ hob a nob,” it would become incum- 
bent upon him to return the compliment the next time 
they should meet in play hours.” And be sure his 
friend, who was of a convivial turn, managed to bring 
- :about this meeting on purpose by chance, as quickly as the 
code of fashion in Arundale, — for where does that cha- 
meleon-coated goddess not hold sway? — should give war- 
rant. 

This second carouse came off, then atabout eight o’clock 
on the Saturday evening after Max Schippheim’s depart- 
ure. Such little courtesies were always easier to pay for 
on pay day than a few days later, and on this occasion, so 
open-handed did Joe’s friend prove that our workman of 
abstemious ways miglit have found it puzzling to get away 
on any decent terms but for the beneficent arrival of Joe’s 
friend’s wife, a virago of powerful dimensions, who carried 
off her "Mittle sot,” as she called him, in triumph to the 
bosom of his family. No sooner was Joe rid of him than 
he quitted the public house and made a start hoine for 
supper. He was perfectly sober, and yet this pint of 
strong ‘"stingo,” taken by one not used to it and on an 
empty stomach, made him to agreat extent a different man. 
It fired his passions, and weakened, in some degree at least, 
his powers of reason and self-control. 

It was a fine summer’s night, and the moone shone al- 
^ ready with unusual brightness, although the sun had but 
just dipped behind the western hills. Tiiere were two 
roads at Joe’s disposal in seeking his abode after quitting 
the “ pub,” — one crowded and short, the other lonesome 
I and a trifle tongor. He took the latter. It was a sort 
of half-finished highway; at one side flanked by a dead 
w'all, and at the other by ground partly laid out in allot- 
ments and partly also in new buildings not yet many feet 
high. It was one of those roads that at present lead 
chieflv nowhere, except, indeed, from the factory to the 
new house of the clerk of the works. Along this way M. 
Paul invariablv wended his way every Saturday night, for 
it was part of his business to confer with that official once 
a week at that hour. 

Whether our friend Joe knew of this custom and took 


60 


LADY Muriel’s secret. 


tlie lonely path with any sinister purpose lurking in his 
over-heated brain, who shall sa}^? 

Certain it is, however, that the two men came face to 
face in this deserted spot just as the big clock at the fac- 
tory tolled forth the lialf-hour after eight on tliis particular 
evening. Joe was going along close to the wall, which 
was on his left, and so, by the rule of the road, wdiich is 
tlie reverse for pedestrians to that which holds good for 
riders and drivers he should have given the wall to the 
Frenchman. M. Brumeau evidently expected he would 
do so, as he never attempted to step aside, but stopped ' 
dead short in front of Joe. It is a point upon which all 
foreigners are somewhat punctilious, and the Mounseer,” 
as the hands called him, would have considered he de- 
graded himself had he given way. So he said civilly 
enough: — 

Let me pass, please.” 

T» which Joe answered: — 

You get out of my way, will yer?” 

Why, Joe, you very well know — I da ask it — you shall 
take to your right.” 

“ Hold yer jargon,” roared Joe. ‘^Fm not going to 
budge a step for the likes o’ you, so get out o’ my path or 
I’ll very soon make yer. D’yer hear?” 

The voice and Joe’s red face, flushed far more with 
choler than with drink, together with the whole fury of 
his aspect, made the Frenchman jump to the conclusion 
that Joe was in a state of intoxication, and as every one 
knows how literally liors-de-combat a very slight stage of 
drunkenness renders one in any kind of a flght, Brumeau 
drew from this mistake a courage which he w^as, as a rule, 
very far from possessing. He carried in his hand a cane 
of the pliant kind known as rattan. This no doubt added 
to his misplaced confidence, so he allowed himself the 
luxury of losing his temper, which it was seen he did not 
do when Joe on a former occasion thrust his hat so igno- 
minously over his eyes; and muttering a very audible 

Sacre Canaille T \\q raised his right arm with intent 
to cut Joe across the countenance with a degree of force 
which would inevitably have marked the bold fellow for 
life. But Joe Marks, as we have seen, was not drunk, 
and proved far too quick for the flippant attack of the 
Gaul. He caught the cane in his right hand, and letting 


LADY MURIEL’S SECRET. 


61 


out with his left at the same moment, the Frenchman 
found himself the next instant on his back on mother 
earth. Then, to liis no little astonishment, Joe, who 
remained erect with the trophy of the cane, left him alone, 
and there it would have been better for him to have lain. 
Ignorant, however of the law and sanctuary which in 
every English-speaking land is enjoyed by the soil to 
protect a fallen foe, and still believing in the inebriety of 
his opponent, the Frenchman, now blind with rage, 
responded to Joe’s — “Now then get up and come on,” 
by implicit obedience. 

The fight could have but one conclusion. Joe, flinging 
the cai'.e behind him, proceeded to decorate the foreigner 
with two unmistakably British black eyes, and then send- 
ing him spinning again — this, time right into the middle 
of the road, upon the flat of his back, he took leave of him 
thus: 

“ And now I ’spects you’ve had as much as is good for 
your constitootion, but you can have plenty more if you 
likes. But I think I’ve taught yer to get out o’ my road, 
theer, and I means it in more ways than one.” 

And with a guffaw which might have been heard at the 
Market-place, Joe thrust his hands into his pockets and 
went on his way rejoicing. 


CHAPTER X. 

TREASURE TROVE. 

“ If the master was only home,” Patty is repeating over 
and over to herself, as the terrible intelligence of Joe’s 
onslaught on the French designer having just reached her, 
she is writhing in agony over what she fears may happen. 

“ Whatever will become of Joe! he’ll be put in prison, 
I know he will, Mounseer is that spiteful. Oh, he is a 
foolish boy, is Joe, and me as doesn’t care for him one 
bit, I wonder if ever I shall get that silly if ever I fell in 
love with any fellow. There’s only one being as I’d go 
through fire and water for, but of course that ain’t love.” 

“ Who is it, Patty?” 

The questioner was Bertha Yorke, who had come 


62 


LADY 3IURIEL’s SECRET. 


!• 


into Patty’s room unperceived. The door being open, 
' one of the neighbors having just quitted it. Bertha had 
not even knocked. 

‘^Miss Yorke, at this ’ere blessed hour of the morning! 
why, it ain’t six! I was just waiting for the factory bell 
to go.” 

‘‘ Yes, I knew you would be in some trouble, Patty, 
and I thought I would get up early and run down to see 
you before you went out.” 

Thank you, thank you very kindly, miss. Then you’ve 
heard this bit of bad news about Joe?” 

Who in Arundale has not heard it? 1 am afraid the 
consequences will be serious for you both.” 

‘^Both! Joe ain’t nothing to me, miss, nor Mounseer 
neither. Why should I be made to suffer for they?” 

You see, my poor Patty, that you will not get people 
to believe that, since it was entirely on your account that 
Joe assaulted M. Brumeau, who, it appears, has been 
hanging about you lately in a way of which Mr. Joe 
Marks disapproves. ” 

‘‘Well, that ain’t my fault. I haven’t encouraged 
‘i him, and it’s very hard on a poor girl like me that I 

, should be made the victim of other people’s vagaries,” 

: V 2 Did Patty began to cry. 

I “ Don’t cry, my dear Patty. You must try and be 

f brave. You have only got yourself to depend on, you 
know, for the way you get on in life, and I am afraid 
r there are difficuliies before you.” 

“Oh, I suppose there are difficulties before everyone, 
but I seem to get an extra share. I wonder why?” 

Bertha looked into the lovely face of the lowly -born girl 
with its drooping eyelashes just wetted with tears and its 
little inflated shell -like nostrils, and she saw her answer 
there. Every woman was jealous of her beauty, even — 
f and she regretted being compelled to think it — even her 
ideal. Lady Muriel. She was too wise, however, to en- 
lighten Patty on the subject; she only said, in a quiet, 
i demure way she had — 

ji ^ It is your cross, my poor child, and you must try and 

= make the burden as liglit as you can.” 

Ji Patty saw from Miss Yorke’s manner that some more 

'i than usually unpleasant occurrence was hanging over her. 



LADY MU KIEL’S " SECRET. 


63 


What is it?” she asked, They are never going to 
send me to prison too!” 

“ To prison? no. You have not done anything to de- 
serve it, have yon?” and Bertha smiled and took her 
hand. 

“ Don’t believe as I’ve done anything to deserve half 
that’s happened. I’ve always tried to be honest and 
straightforward. What are they going to do with me?” 

‘‘Well, I hate being the bearer of ill-tidings, Patty, 
but I think it is kinder to prepare you. You are to be 
dismissed from the factory.” 

Patty’s eyes flashed and the color rose to her face. 

“ It ain’t true. They can’t do it. The master’s away.” 

“Mr. Alston,” put in Bertha, quietly, as though to re- 
mind her there was another partner. 

“ Mr. Alston don’t interfere with that department.” 

“No, not when Mr. Schippheirn is at homo, but he has 
full power now and a strong recommendation from Mr. 
Schippheirn to dismiss the whole of the hands if he con- 
siders it necessary,” 

It was true, the master had told her so himself in that 
last interview she had with him. She remembered it per- 
fectly as Bertha spoke. She thought for a minute or two, 
and then she said, — 

“ And they are going to begin with me?” 

“Yes. Since you seem- to be the cause of offense, my 
cousin thinks it will make least fuss to remove you.” 

“And that’s human justice,” cried Patty, speaking 
very bitterly, “ these people have tormented me till I’m 
nearly mad, and I am to be thrown out of work for their 
fault. Oh, if Granny had only lived, or if the master 
was only here!” 

At this moment the six o’clock bell at the factory be- 
gan to ring, but instead of hurrying off as she generally 
did, Patty took off. the old black hat which was already on 
her head when Miss Yorke came in. 

“Are you not going up to the work-room, Patty?” 

“What’s the use, miss? If I am to be sent away I may 
as well save them the trouble of telling me so.” 

“You forget I have only told yon this out of kindness, 
and that if my cousin knew I had interfered with his af- ^ 
fairs he would be very angry with me. • I should even risk 


64 LADY MUKIEL’S SECRET. 

offending Lady Muriel, whom 1 would not annoy for 
worlds. ’’ 

Patty took up her hat once more. . 

‘^You’re right, miss, and thank you. I have no busi- 
ness to drag you into my trouble.” 

The sky will get brighter, Patty, never fear. There’s 
never a week in which the sun does not show itself, much 
less a lifetime.” 

But Patty shook her head. At that moment it was use- 
less to talk to her of sunshine. 

“ Good morning. Miss Yorke, and thank you, I shall 
be late.” 

She turned to go, but the real object of Bertha’s visit 
had yet to be told. 

‘‘ Look here, Patty;” and Miss Yorke stopped as though 
too shy to goon; she made a, strong effort, however, to 
overcome her diffidence. Look here, I am not rich, for 
my cousin Herbert keeps all my money, but take these 
two sovereigns; you may want them.” 

Indeed, indeed I won’t, thank you all the same, but 
I won’t have any money I haven’t earned.” 

‘^As a loan,” pleaded Bertha, whom this somewhat 
turbulent refusal had frightened. 

But Patty was positive. 

^^I’ll get along, miss, somehow, and I’ll be much 
obliged if you’ll give me an occasional word of advice, see- 
ing you’ve been educated; you* know so much more than 
I do; but I won’t take no money, no not even from the 
master himself. My Granny always told me that taking 
money as you hadn’t worked for was destruction and per- 
dition to a girl.” 

‘^She didn’t mean me,” said Bertha. 

That I don’t know. A rule is a rule, you see — but 
there, the bell has stopped while we’ve been talking,” and 
Patty ran off, leaving Bertha not a little discomfited. 
She had risked Lady Muriel’s displeasure and all for noth- 
ing, since Patty had disdained her help. 

She had been quite correct, however, in the informa- 
tion she had brought, Patty was sent for into Andrews’ 
room, paid her wages till the end of the week, and desired 
not to show her face inside the factory gates again. 
Andrews, who had always been exceedingly civil, even 
kind, to Patty, when he saw that Mr. Schippheim inter- 


LADY MURIEL’S SECRET. 


65 

■ested himself in her lonely position, was now almost bru- 
tal in the short, summary manner of his dismissal. 

Andrews, like many others, ever tendered his homage 
to the rising sun, but he was too coarse-minded to be able 
to conceal the fact, as a man of more refined culture 
would have done. He was just a little surprised, however, _ 
at the calm dignity with which Patty accepted his com- 
munication without a demurrer, and pocketing the money 
he gave her, dropped a respectful courtesy and left the 
room. 

Accustomed from his otfice of overseer to hearing many . 
hard words, Andrews had partly armed himself with 
brutality in order to withstand them in tliis instance. 
He did not know Patty, though even she would probably 
have been less composed had she not been forwarned 
by Bertha. 

She walked very slowly back from the works to her - 
room in the cottage, revolving many projects for the fut- 
ure in her mind as she did so. 

The street was nearly deserted at that hour of the morn- 
ing, most of the inhabitants of Arundale being either in 
the factory or busy inside their shops. Thus she met 
with but few interruptions. On nearing home, however, 
she come across a knot of tiny urcliins at play. 

Yon’s Patty Hrske,” said an impudent little minx of 
jiine to a boy about tlie same age. ‘‘She’s been turned 
out of the works for being a bad girl.”. 

“ What has she done?” asked the boy. “ Stole?” 

“ No. Been sweetheartin’ with the French Mouhseer. 
Mother says ” 

But what her mother had said this precocious young 
lady was not permitted to state, for Patty, who was a little 
nearer than she imagined, gave her such a box on the ears 
that she was speechless for some seconds before she set up _ 
such a protracted howl of pain and temper that the whole 
street echoed with it. No one, however, took any notice; 
children’s screams in Arundale were of much too common 
occurrence. 

Meantime, Patty had gone into the house and shut the 
door. 

She did not cry or give way to despondency and despair' 
as she had done a week ago when set on by the women in 
the “Long Room;” it seemed, on the contrary, as if re- 




G6 LADY MURIEL’S SECRET. 

cent occiirrenceiS bad dried up the fouut of tears and made 
her hard and old. 

Tiie observations of these two children had decided her 
future. 

She would not remain in Arundale to be the butt of 
the whole population, from Lady Murial down to these 
pauper brats.” 

She laid the money Andrews had given her on the table. 
Fourteen shillings; that was her week’s pay up to the fol- 
lowing Saturday night. She pushed away three shillings 
for rent, and taking a little box from a shelf, she turned out 
eight. Nineteen shillings, not even a pound, that was all 
Patty’s earthly possessions except the furniture. 

^^Of course it must go,” she murmured; was 

Granny’s, I should like to have kept it, but I can’t have 
no incumbrances if I mean to work my way.” 

How she was going to work her way she did not alto- 
gether know; she would get a situation of some sort, she 
supposed, as she was quite certain Miss Yorke would say 
a good word for her. So thinking, and without further 
delay, being of a practical turn of mind, she began to turn 
out drawers and pull the place to pieces generally, a thing 
she had not done since Granny’s death, having had neither 
the time nor the heart; as it was, she frequently left off 
when she came across some old cap or shawl that brought 
vividly back an almost forgotten memory, and hiding her 
face in her hands, turned way with a little shiver. 

Alone? alone in the world with no money, and scarcely 
a friend, it was a sad lot, but Patty was brave and she was 
resolved to struggle resolutely to the end. So recovering 
herself 'Speedily, she went on with her rummaging. By 
twelve o’clock, when the hands came trooping out of the 
works, Patty had already almost completed her task, and 
was sitting on the floor in the midst of various heaps of 
old letters, odds and ends, and wearing apparel. Such a 
collection would have gained from most people tiie appel- 
lation of rags,” but by Patty it was regarded as property. 

She had left off rummaging, and was seated with her 
elbows on her knees, looking in an abstracted way at some 
papers she held in her hands. All of a sudden there was 
a sound as of some one trying to open the room door. 
Patty thrust the whole handfui of papers into her pocket; 


LADY Muriel’s secret. 


67 


evidently she was most anxious they should not he seen; 
then she called out — 

‘‘The door ain’t locked, why don’t you come in?” 

It was Elsie Bligh. 

“ My poor, dear, darling Patty!” 

“Now look here, Elsie, I don’t want no pity. Don’t 
think as I should have stayed in that factory long — least- 
wise, if I’d known what I know now I shouldn’t, so don’t 
say a word, only if you’ve a mind to be my friend, all. 
right — here’s my hand, only we won’t have no sniveling.” 

“ I don’t want to snivel, Patty, only Pm sorry for you, 
and 1 don’t know whatever you is going to do — if the 
master Was only here!”^ 

Patty looked at her without answering this time; tluit 
was exactly what she had been wishing all day. Elsie 
went on. 

“ Since he ain’t, what do you think of going to moth- 
er’s for a bit? She don’t live in Arundale, you know. I ' 
bides with my aunt. Mother washes for the quality and 
has a laundry at Daleford about three miles off.” 

Pafc-ty gave no immediate reply, but at last she said — 

“That’s the most sensible suggestion as you’ve made ' 
this month past, Elsie Bligh. Yes, I’ll go to your mother 
if she’ll have me; she is a decent woman. But I’ll only _ 
go on one condition, that she’ll let me work for my bed 
and board till such time as I can get things righted, and 
liave an independence of my own.” 

“You with an independence, Patty?” 

“Ay, and perhaps it won’t be so long as you think, 
afore it comes.” 

Elsie laughed. All the Arundale girls were amused by 
Patty’s grand airs and ambitious schemes. She thought 
this independence was only another of the many castles in 
tlie air Patty had been known to build. 

But Patty did not heed her derision. She got up from 
lier position on the floor, and without saying one word on 
the subject of the papers she had hidden away in her 
pocket, she began to put things straighten her room. 

“You can go along home to Daleford to-night, after 
work, and let me know afore the morning what your 
mother says.” 

“ Ay, will I, Patty; and I know she’ll say welcome, 
for she’s good-hearted, and she’s taken a liking to you.” 


68 


LADY MUKIEL’S SECRET. 


Soon after this Elsie Bligh took her leave, and Patty 
once neore was alone. This time she locked the door, and, 
spreading the precious papers out on the table, she sat for 
a while studying them very deeply. 

A hundred pounds in the savings bank as I can claim 
when Granny dies, and me never to know it, and think 
she was so poor; and ten sovereigns in an old stocking in 
the brown hair box under the bed.” 

She drew the box out while she soliloquized. Yes, 
there they were in all their golden sheen. She took them 
out and hid them away in the bosom of her dress. She 
would tell no one of her treasure, she decided. She had 
not much belief in Arundale people, and recent occur- 
rences had robbed her of even that little she once pos- 
sessed. 

Only the master, he was stanch and true; she would 
wait till he came back. There might be some trouble 
about it since Urske was the only name by which she was 
known in Arundale. Yes. Mrs. Bligh.’s was the place 
'till such time as the master came back, then she’d see 
about making a start in life for herself.” 


CHAPTER XL 

HE LOVES HER. 

Bertha! good gracious! What brings you out at this 
time of the morning ?” 

“And you, Captain Christian. It is much more sur- 
prising to see you. I am in the habit of getting up, but 
you must acknowledge that you belong to the laggard or- 
der.” 

“The morning was very lovely, and I could not sleep, 
so I thought I would try what a little fresh air would do 
for me. ^ I am not sure, Bertha, that I did not see your 
white skirts floating gracefully among the foliage.” 

Yes it was a lovely morning. The sun, whicirhad not 
long risen, was dancing among the dew-drops, which, as 
though sparkling with joy in welcome of his return, shone 
like gems upon the verdant eartli. The birds in the many 
trees which surrounded the house above the Dale were 


LADY MURIEL’S SECRET. (j9 

their rejoicing at the return of morn in one 
glad llallelnjnh to nature’s God, and the buzzing of the 
insects, the bright colors of the field flowers, and the soft, 
sweet, balmy scent which pervaded the atmosphere ^served 
to combine melody and coloring ifi one harmonious whole, 

“ And all save the spirit of man is divine.” 

Yet to look at the two young people who had just met 
on the edge of the hill, they scarcely appeared out of con- 
cord with their surroundings. 

If Bertha was scarcely beautiful according to the clas- 
sical laws from which men. reckon beauty, still she was 
very fair, and the spirit of purity had enwrapped her in a 
soTt of mystic sanctity which seemed peculiarly in keeping 
with the hour and scene, while as for Christian himself, he 
might carry off the palm for highly chiseled features and 
god-like proportions in any arena of athletes in Europe; 
his long blonde beard meanwhile proclaiming him essen- 
tially Saxon in type. 

But in the man was wanting the very charm of expres- 
sion that gave the girl a characteristic sweetness. 

They were rather physical than mental attributes that 
rendered Christian remarkable. Very handsome Bertha 
thought him now, as he lounged with his back against a 
tree, talking to her, a darkish-brown knickerbocker suit, 
with scarlet stockings, and a soft Tyrolese hat, enhancing 
to no small degree the actual beauty of his manly form. 
At his feet lay crouching ‘‘ Wolf,” Lad v Muriel’s dachs- 
hund. 

Bertha smiled when he alluded to her white skirts, and 
did not answer him. She was always a little shy with 
Christian, though pleased when he talked to or took 
notice of her. Judging from her manner, he would never 
have guessed what a strong flame of love for him had been 
ignited, and was burning steadily in that seemingly quiet 
little heart. ■ 

Not receiving any answer, he went on — You have not 
told me where you have been wandering so early?” 

Oh, I went down to see Patty Urske.” 

To see Patty Urske! one never seems to hear of any 
one but that girl now. You know she is to be dismissed 
from the works this morning.” 

Yes, I went to tell her so.” 


70 


LADT Muriel’s secret. 


You! and may I ask why?” 

'^'She was especially recommended to my care by your 
uncle, before he went abroad.” 

How very funny that he should select you for a confi- 
dante. Did he tell you to what degree he was in love with 
her?” 

Oh, Captain Christian!” 

And Bertha’s face grew crimson. 

Well, every one says that my old relative is in love 
with this Patty Urske, and a most inconvenient predi- 
lection it may prove.” 

How so? She is a good little thing; besides, T don’t 
believe a word of it; Mr. Shippheim is not in the least 
likely to fall in love with a girl like that.” 

One would think not; still, I am afraid it is true, 
and only imagine if she got “all his money, Bertha, what 
would become of me 9 Since you always profess a certain 
amount of regard for me, I am surprised that you should 
encourage this Patty Urske.” 

It was £he first time that Christian had ever adopted 
the you and I ” tone in addressing Bertha, and from 
the blush-rose pink that she had been a moment before 
she became crimson as a peony. 

^‘Lady Muriel said I might go,” she answered; ^Mie- 
sides I don’t understand how my going or staying away 
would infiuence Mr. Schippheirn if he really does care 
for Patty.” 

No one would influence you if you cared for any one, 
eh, Bertha?’ 

She looked up at him suddenly for just one second; 
his large ardent deep blue eyes gazed into her calm gray 
ones; then she closed them, as though his gaze frightened 
her. 

‘^No one would influence me,” she said, slowly repeat- 
ing his words. I think I should be very steadfast.” 

^^And has the arrow of the tender passion ever yet 
penetrated that little heart of yours, my sweet Bertha?” 
lie asked in a tone that was half-bantering, half-inquiring. 

Again she looked up at him for a second. 

By what right, she thought, did he ask that question 
unless it were followed by another? and Lady Muriel had 
told her she must not expect Christian to express himself 
^ words for some time ‘to come. Bertha was very young, 




LADY MUlilEL'S SECRET. 71 

aud unversed in the ways of society; still, she often 
thought that if she loved any man very dearly she could 
not help telling him so, in the hope of receiving an assur- 
ance of his love in return. 

Then she would excuse Christian for his silence by tell- 
ing heiself that there was some serious obstacle which he 
could not overcome. 

Ay, she was right, there was— tliat is if lie really loved 
her at all; but it never occurred to Bertha that that 
obstacle was Lady Muriel. 

Lady Muriel, her type of goodness and virtue! 

She would sooner have believed in the downfall of the 
entire English Church than that Lady Muriel could have 
a grave fault. 

At this moment, however, she was not thinking of Lady 
Muriel, but of Christian, as he asked that almost leading 
question, which Eertha, all circumstances considered, 
found it not very easy to answer; so she did what probably 
most very young girls would have done— she laoked a lit- 
tle shy and sheepish, and said she did not know. 

Christian laughed and tried to look bright and hand- 
some, telling her once more with his eyes how much he 
admired her, and then a sort of inward conviction crept 
over him that Bertha was not wholly indifferent to him, 
and laying that flattering unction to his soul he felt 
pleased. 

He IS bound hand and foot to Eady Muriel. Has he not 
loved her for five years, the romance of their young dream 
having only been interrupted by that very prosaic rich 
marriage which she had felt it to I)e her vocation to make. 
Whether Christian has loved her as much since as before 
that marriage is perhaps a little doubtful; Lady Muriel 
thinks he does and rests on his devotion as on a soft mossy 
bank when the much business she imposes on herself has 
wearied her. 

However that may be, Christian has of late felt a grow- 
ing inclination to admire Bertha; there is something so 
sweet, young, and spring-like about her. He is evidently 
tired somewhat by the garish heat of the summer sun, as 
it shines fully upon him from Lady Muriel’s matured 
schemes and highly developed undertakings. Had she 
not just a little outwitted herself when she suggested to 
this young man that it were a plausible sham to hint 


LADY MURIEL’S SECRET. 


72 

that he was a possible suitor of Miss Beriha Yorke — by 
this means suggesting to his mind that the possibility 
might become reality; and each time he had looked at 
Bertha of late he became more and more impressed with 
this idea. 

Of what Lady Muriel would say he did not, however, 
dare to think. Athlete though Christian Meyer was in 
outward appearance, morally he might to a certain extent 
be written ‘‘coward.” That is decidedly if being terribly 
afraid of a scene with a woman, dubs a man a coward. 

And that Lady Muriel would make a scene and a very 
strong scene, too, he did not fora moment doubt. Stand- 
ing there, however, that August morning, looking at 
Bertha, as the branches of a wide-spreading elm shel- 
tered them both, he had no thought for Lady Muriel, 
and if she had come upon them then, probably he would 
have braved her anger for Bertha’s sake, telling her plainly 
that he had learnt to love her little cousin. 

But Lady Muriel was fast asleep; despite all her energy, 
early rising was not one of her weaknesses, and she kneV 
nothing of the meeting under the greenwood trees. 

Nor was there much to tell, or Bertha would assuredly 
have repeated it verbatim to her divinity; this fact Chris- 
tian remembered just in time, when he was about to ask, 
“ Do you know how much I love you, pretty Bertha?” 
and the words nearly choked him in the desperate effort 
he made to prevent himself from uttering them, the old 
saying about being off with the old love before you are 
on with the new, coming forcibly into his mind the while. 
Rather like a pair of fools then they both looked, as they 
stood staring at each other, while neither spoke; but then 
lovers are wont to look foolish though they do not know 
it; there is a mute language in the eyes which, to them at 
least, fills up all the awkwardness of silence. 

Bertha, till to-day, had sometimes doubted wliether 
Lady Muriel was not mistaken in imagining that Christian 
had any especial predilection for her, since very frequently 
he seemed almost to ignore her presence. 

From to-day, however, she felt she should believe in 
him. Had he not looked tlie love which now, more than 
ever, since his prospects from his uncle were in jeopardy, 
he dared not speak? She was the first to break the curious 
silence, almost painful as it ^was from the intensity of 


LADY MURIEL’S SECRET. 


;3 

feeling it produced; less so, perhaps, to the girl than to 
the man, since the same dread did not oppress her which 
hung like an incubus over him. 

I must be going up to the house,” she said; it is 
getting late, nearly eight o’clock.” 

And your feet must be wet from standing in this dew. 
Bertha, why do you wear such dainty shoes?” 

Bertha laughed and looked at her tiny feet almost em- 
bedded in the long grass. 

^"They are used to a few wettings,” she said, I am 
all right. Are you coming, or going on your solitary way 
rejoicing?” 

Going on my solitary way, but not rejoicing.’ Ho 
looked so grave as he answered her that she stared in some 
astonishment at him for a second; then she turned to take 
her departure while he raised his hat slowly. It had been 
an unsatisfactory interview, she could not help thinking 
as she went along; still for all that she felt quite certain 
that Christian' was in love with her. 

If she could have watched him when he believed him- 
self to be quite alone, she would have had no further doubt 
on the matter. 

What an ass, what a double-headed ass I have been to 
let myself in for this intrigue with Lady Muriel. I ought 
to have cut the Gordian knot when she married, and if I 
had not been too much under her influence I suppose I 
should. I’ll cut it now, however, I will, by Jove, though 
what a row, what a frightful row there will be. However, 
why should I care? She can’t show me up without show- 
ing up herself, and she won’t do that. She can make 
things deuced unpleasant for me, though, especially as my 
uncle has taken it into his head to strike out a new course 
of his own. I wonder how much truth there is in that 
story about his weakness for that little low hussy, and to 
think of Bertha patronizing her. However, perhaps we 
may find out something that way. Ho, I must not break 
with Muriel yet; she is the only person who can squash 
Patty, and she must not have her wings clipped till she 
has done it. But, by Jove, it is difficult to go on sham- 
ming a devotion I no linger feel, and she thinks I am 
shamming the intention of marrying my sweet little 
Bertha. Shouldn’t I like to carry her off this very day 
and never see any of the d d Aruudale people againj, 


74 LADY Muriel’s secret. 

but ifc would not be diplomatic. Those who would win 
must wait.” 

Into such a rkume as that may the thoughts be con- 
centrated that chased each other through Christian’s brain 
after Bertha had left him — he, meanwhile, totally disre- 
garding the dew of which he had bade her be careful, had 
thrown himself full length on the grass, and looked as 
hopelessly love-sick a swain as the most exacting maiden 
might desire; though, perhaps, the careful side of his 
character, which suggested waiting, would scarcely have 
been deemed a perfection from a feminine aspect. 

Nor was Christian exactly pleased with himself for his 
resolve. He felt that it was cowardly and base; but what 
could he do with Lady Muriel’s determination of purpose 
and shrew-like tongue in terrorem over him, and his un- 
cle’s fortune a little further off than it had seemed even a 
week ago. 

He would not stop idling here though, he thought, as 
be suddenly got up and shook himself; he would carry 
out his oft-talked-of project, and exchange into a regi- 
ment on foreign service. How could he continue to make 
Dale House his home when these two women both dwelt 
under the same roof? It would be hard not to see poor 
d'arling little Bertha for months, perhaps years; but be- 
fore he left England he would make her promise to be ' 
true to him, and then he would go off without a word of 
explanation with Lady Muriel. 

Having settled his plans in this very satisfactory, if not 
wholly brave fashion, he lounged slowly toward the house, 
indulging in a continuation of his reverie the while. A 
voice from one of the terraces awakened him. 

^^Good morning, Christian. Is anything the matter' 
that you are out so early? How jaded and ill you do look. 
Come in and have your breakfast, you poor dear boy.” 

It was Lady Muriel wlio spoke, and while she did so, 
she leant over the balustrade and put her hand in Chris- 
tian's. Their eyes met, as his and Bertha’s had met a 
couple of hours ago, and Lady Muriel for the first time 
thought she detected the absence of an accustomed fire in 
his glance. 




LADY Muriel’s secjiet. 75 


CHAPTER XII. 

THE PERSUASIVE PINT. 

When Christian went into the breakfast-room, he 
found 13erthaseated|in her usual place behind the silver tea 
paraphernalia, and Mr. Alston absent; an unusual occur- 
ence since he was generally the most punctual of the party. 

Where is Alston?” he asked, looking round, as though 
seeking in Herbert Alston a protector from these two 
. women, whom he had learnt during the last hour that it 
was rather a terrible matter to face. 

Oh, Herbert went out quite early, before eight. He 
is really at last impressed with the idea that this sort of 
^ mutiny must be stopped in the works. It is a pity he did 
(not interfere earlier, and perhaps poor M. Brumeau would 
have been spared the pain and annoyance of this last 
scandal.” 

Christian began to laugh. 

It won’t do him any harm. He fancies himself to 
such a degree, it will take him down a peg or two; bub 
must he not look lovely with two black eyes. You will be 
quite disenchanted. Lady Muriel.” • 

“Oh, Christian, how can you joke like that? An 
artist of M. Brumeau’s ‘caliber to be disfigured and ren- 
dered incapable of attending to his painting! It is too 
dreadful to think of. I hear from my maid that he is 
quite ill this morning.” 

“Poor Brumeau! he is indeed to be pitied,” but Chris- 
tian’s tone was a bantering one, and Lady Muriel turned 
away from him with a toss. 

“I mean it; indeed I do. Lady Muriel,” ho went on, 
with more gravity. “ I pity every man who is a coward, 
and therefore, by the same reasoning, I must respect the 
plucky dog who has dared the anger of all Arundale and 
punched this Frenchman's head because ^he thought he 
deserved it.” 

“ Temper, simply temper and brutality — in all proba- 
bility he was drunk.” 

“Joe Marks doesn’t drink,” observed Bertha very quiet- 

• * V 




70 


LADY Muriel’s secret. 


ly; she was pleased with Christian for siding, with what 
she considered the weaker party. 

^‘But he was partially drunk, Bertha; that he had been 
drinking has been proved. In the whole annals of Arnn- 
dale a brawl has never been recorded that was not the re- 
sult of drink.” 

And what has Alston decided to do? telegraph to my 
nncie or act on his OAvn responsibility? He seemed unde- 
cided last night.” 

Telegraphing to your uncle would be folly, as I have 
made him see at last. It is such a good opportunity, t()o, to 
get rid of that little good-for-nothing Patty Urske. Then, 
of course, Joe will be dismissed. He could not be ke])t 
in the factory after what has happened.” 

‘‘ What a charming pair of martyrs! I sliould think 
all Arundale would subscribe to put up statues to them,” 
said Christian; as he helped himself to a poached egg from 
a dish in front oLhim. 

“ Beally, Christian, you are too odious this morning. 
Pray what sort of treatment would you reeomtneiui? 
Would you like us to pet and spoil Joe Marks and rt.is 
girl in order to make an Arundale martyr of M. Brurnean ? ’ 

No, not exactly. I should leave them all alone t > 
fight out their quarrels as best they can. Brurnean ini.s 
been hankering after Joe Marks’ sweetheart, or lie would 
not have hit him on the head, and wliat right has Brunieaii 
to hanker after Joe Marks’ sweetheart?” 

Peace must be kept, and the liberty of the British 
subject respected. M. Brumeau has as much right to 
make love to this girl as Joe Marks has.” 

“ Exactly, therefore let them settle it. It seems to me 
that it is rather derogatory to the dignity of Lady xMuriel 
Alston to mix herself up in these quarrels.” 

“Lady Muriel Alston never considers it derogatory 
to her dignity to show that she is the mother of her peo- 
ple.” 

Christian merely bowed his head in acknowledgrnont 
of this somewhat dignified assertion, but Bertha, who 
happened to be looking at him that moment, noticed a 
curl about his lower lip which almost amounted to a smile. 
She was inclined to resent it forthwith; even from Chris- 
tian she could not brook any slight cast on her divinity. 

Breakfast at Dale House that morning was not a very 


LADY Muriel’s secret. 


77 


long meal. Lady Muriel was far too practical to be in- 
clined to dawdle, and very soon went off to attend to the 
multifarious engagements she either had, or imagined she 
had to keep, telling Christian as she left the room, that by 
twelve o’clock she would be free, and hoped he would 
come in the shade for an hour before luncheon and read 
to her while she worked. 

This was an arrangement of almost daily occurrence at 
Dale House, and one from which Bertha was always ex- 
cluded, on the plea that it was not good for girls to read, 
novels. 

Christian answered that he would be in readiness and 
delighted, and gieautime, would saunter down into Arun- 
dale and see what had been the outcome of the filtering the 
factory was to receive from Mr. Alston that morning. 
The result of Christian’s walk was that Lady Muriel wait^ 
cd in vain for him when the twelve o’clock reading time 
came; for, at that hour the ‘‘hands” flocked out of the 
works, and a general row seemed to be imminent. The 
people were standing about in groups, talking and vocifer- 
ating violently; the” whole place seemed suddenly to be 
split into two factions, the larger portion, as Christian had 
prophesied, declaring for Joe Marks, who, from being a 
civil-spoken, v^ell-conducted lad, was a tolerably general 
favorite in Arundale, while Paul Brumeau, as a foreigner 
and a 'novelty, was more or less looked on in the light of 
an interloper. A certain set of men, however, took it 
into their heads that for the very reason that he was a 
stranger it was damaging to the honor of Arundale that 
he should be knocked about by this big-fisted Joe. 

“ It wasn’t a fair fight,” they said, “ nor one of which 
an honest Englishman ought to be proud.” 

■ They expressed themselves very freely on the subject, 
in language neither polite nor parliamentary, to have it 
all thrown back to them with equal virulence and violence 
by the party who declared that “ Joe was quite right, and 
they didn’t want no d d furrineer^ cornin’ a poachin’ 

on their manor.” . ^ 

From mere hot words several of these knots of talkers 
got to blows, and that a few others besides Paul Brumeau 
would have black eyes in Arundale there was little doubt. 

Andrews came fussing out of the office, and tried blus- 
tering and persuasion by turns, but no one paid the slight- 


78 


LADY 


MURIEL’S 


SECRET. 


est attention to him. It seemed as if the whole factory 
had lost that regard for superior officers for which it had 
ever been celebrated under Mr. Schippheirn’s j:nanag’e- 
nient. 

Andrews, foiled, retired in searched of Mr. Alston, but 
that gentleman, who was looking out of the comfortable up- 
per room assigned to him at the works, did not evince 
any particular alacrity to plunge into the midst of tiie 
free fight which by this time was going on in the quad- 
rangle. 

Mr. Schippheim’s Now, my lads, what does all this 
Snean?” would have stopped the disturbance at once, but 
Mr. Alston was quite right in doubting Ids possession of 
the same amount of power over the people* that liis senior 
partner enjoyed. 

He scratched his head, flusheJ up, and looked perplexed 
at Andrews; then he began to talk vaguely about a diffi- 
cult position to deal with single-handed, and that perhaps 
it would be better to call in'the aid of the })olice. 

Of course all this fighting and skirmishing [ind hard 
words was a case for the police; but Mr. Alston ought to 
have known his people better and been fully aware that 
extraneous assistance was more likely to infuriate than to 
subdue them. Andrews, at all events, did not budge 
when he talked of the police, but answered a liitle hesi- 
tatingly, as if half afraid of offending Mr. Alston, with 
whom he was by no means on the same cordial terms as 
with Mr. Shippheim — 

think, sir, if you wouldn’t mind speaking to them 
yourself ” 

— I speak to them, Andrews! I don’t know what to 
say; if they won’t attend to you, they won’t to me. Be- 
sides, in a row like that it would be impossible to make 
oneself heard. God bless my soul, there’s a stone against 
the window! It is as bad as being in Ireland or Bussia 
— Communists all — everyone of them.” 

Andrews smiled. 

I think, sir, it is ojily an English row, wdiich a few 
straightforward words from the right person would stop at 
once.” 

Ay, but the right person is not there, and that, perhaps, 
Mr. Alston felt as well as Andrews did. 

Good gracious, who is that down there among the 


LADY MUHIEL’S SECRET. 


79 


mei).''’ cried Mr. Alston on a sudden, taking a peep out 
of the window from behind a curtain. ‘MVhy, it is 
Christian; he will be killed— killed, as sure as fate. What 
temerity!” 

“Captain Christian! 1 didn’t think of him,” said An- 
drews, walking right up to the window and opening it 
wide, in spite of Mr. Alston’s half-protest that it was dan- 
gerous. 

He wanted to^ hear whether Captain Christain would 
have any authority over tliese unruly men. 

Yes, in spite of his indolence and usual lardi-dardi airs, 
he was his uncle’s nephew, flesh of his flesh, spirit of his 
spirit. 

He got up on an old tub which was standing bottom 
upward in the corner of the courtyard, and began a 
harangue. 

“Look here, my boys, don’t you know that the game 
you are carrying on is arrant tonvfoolery? Losing your 
tempers and bruising your backs for what? Because two 
men are in love with one woman. You are not all in love 
with her, I suppose. If so, God help you! And since 
you don’t care a fig about the matter, just go home to 
your dinners and leave the parties interested to settle the 
matter amongst themselves. If you’ll stop this row and 
let us have no more of it. I’ll stand you a" pint of ale all 
round.” 

“Hurrah for Captain Christian! three cheers for Cap- 
tain Christian! Schippheim for over!” 

While Herbert Alston had been shivering by the win- 
dow, Christian had turned the current by a few l>earty, 
though scarcely rhetorical words. No doubt the promise 
lof ale was bribery and corruption in which neither of the 
partners would have joined; but then Christian was not a 
partner, and was therefore free to act as he listed. 

At all events he had succeeded in stopping at the very 
outset what might otherwise have proved a very compli- 
cated and troublesome disturbance. 

His next endeavor was to get away from these men, 
who suddenly turned from hating each other into wor- 
shiping him to such an extent that they wanted to carry 
him in triumph through the yard. This he would, how- 
ever, in no wise permit, and calling to Andrews, who was 
still at the window shielding Mr. Alston from view, he 


f 


80 


LADY Muriel’s secret. 


bade him tell Rogers at the bar belonging to the works to 
give them a pint of ale all round, and send the score to 
him. 

This produced another succession of loud cheers, dur- 
ing which Christian managed to slip through a side door 
which led into the building, and from whence, by going 
down some long passages, he could get out at the back of 
the workshops — back to Dale House to read sentiment 
* and romance to Lady Muriel. 

But Christian’s adventures for that day were not yet- 
over. Standing all alone at the workshop door was Joe. 

He had been dismissed, and was so crushed and taken 
abacL by the verdict that he had only managed to crawl 
just outside the back door, and there he had remained in 
a state of stupefaction ever since. Ho one had interferred 
with him, because that mode of exit was not very fre- 
quently used, and Christian was the first person who had 
happened to come by. 

Hullo! Joe! why what the devil! You look as glum,, 
man, as if ” 

** Please, sir, you know I’ve been dismissed.” 

‘MVell — yes — I must say I think you richly deserve iL 
What the deuce you wanted to set all Arundale by the 
ears for I can’t make out. What are you agoing to do 
next?” 

I’m sure I don’t know. There’s my mother, she’s a 
most dependent on me, and as for Patty, I don’t know 
what she will think.” 

You should have considered all this before, myman.’^ 
was the drink as done it,” said Joe, meekly. 

Drink! I did not know th^at you ever drank.” 

Hot as a rule, sir, but I did have a drop too much on 
Saturday night.” 

Well, you’ve got yourself into a precious mess. I 
suppose you know M. Brumeau can have you taken up if 
he likes, and in all probability you’ll get a couple of 
month’s for assault.” 

Joe. hung his head, and did not attempt to answer. 

If you ask me my opinion, I think he very probably 
will,” went on Christian; ‘‘just now he is too ill and 
battered about, but only wait till he’s a bit better.” 

“ What do you think I had better do, sir? L’ll apologize 
if you wish It, but Pd rather not.” 


f 


LADY MURIEI/S SECRET. 


81 


‘^Apologize! no, stick to your colors.” 

Joe’s eyes twinkled. 

Of course, you thought this man was in the wrong, 
or you wouldn’t have punished him. By law you had no 
right to interfere, but having interfered, stick to it, only 
make yourself scarce for a while.” 

Won’t that look like running away, sir?” 

‘^No, I think not. For peace-sake you are bound to do 
it. Your staying here will aggravate both Brumeau and 
the hands; whenever they see you there will be a fresh 
row. Go over to Belton, the town about twenty miles 
off, and try to get some work there. The 602d Kegi- 
ment is quartered at Belton. I’ll write a note to Captain 
Kendall, a friend of mine, and tell him all about you. I 
daresay he’ll help you in some way.” 

‘‘Thank you, sir, thank you very kindly. I’ll follow 
your advice.” 

“You had better go at once. There has already been 
a row in the yard about this business. Do you want any 
money?” 

“No, sir, thank you. I have a pound or two in re- 
serve, and if I get work soon I shall do,” 

“ All right. Let me know if you get hard up. Cap- 
tain Kendall at the barracks. I’ll write to-day.” 

Joe Marks had risen by many degrees in Christian’s 
estimation by refusing his offer of pecuniary assistance. 

As soon as he was once more alone, Joe strode off home 
and ate his dinner in almost silence. He did not tell his 
mother he had been dismissed from the works, and being 
a prudent woman, she asked no question since from the 
rumors flying about the town, she had more than a vague 
knowledge of what had passed between him and the new 
designer. Nor was Joe, considering her fondness for him, 
treating his mother altogether fairly by not confiding in 
her, for certain it is that having finished his dinner, 
he slipped the little hoard of savings he possessed into his 
pocket, and started for Belton without vouchsafing a 
single word to anyone. 


82 


LADY MUKIEL’S SECRET. 


CHAPTER XIII. 

BLIND . 

Patty in a neat black print frock, and an apron as 
clean as the driven snow, is standing at the door of Mrs. 
Bligh’s laundry. 

Matters have been arranged to her satisfaction, and 
though she is treated more like a daughter than a serv- 
ant, she works for her bread and cheese, as do the rest, 
and according to Mrs. Bligh more than earns it too, for a 
handier, more willing girl than Patty she has not had in 
her employment for^many a long day. Yet Patty is not 
happy; her heart is in Arundale, and she always seems to 
be hankering after the old place — not that she will ever 
go back there, she supposes; having once drifted away, 
the natural inference is tliat she will drift on. Patty, 
though an ignorant girl, knowing nothing of currents and 
rivers, and geograi^hical terms, yet lias a sort of instinct- 
ive feeling that a thing having once passed away can 
never return in exactly the same form. 

Tlie old days of Arundale will no more recommence for 
her than she will become a baby again to be nursed and 
fondled on her mother’s knee; of that she feels very sure. 
Who or what she longs for in Arundale she does not even 
try to define to herself, but the old life is gone, the life 
about which she used to complain to poor old Granny, 
but since which she has endured enough to discover was 
very careless and sweet. There is no one about her now, 
kindly though the faces are of those around, who belongs 
to that happy past, not even Joe. Where can he be? Patty 
has always professed not to love Joe, but it is of Joe she 
is thinking, as she stands by the laundry door that mel- 
low September afternoon, now three weeks since she left 
the Arundale works. 

Since then she has received no tidings of him. Mrs. 
Marks, in her dire trouble of mind, has been over to 
Daleford two or three times to talk to Patty about him, 
but neither of them has the slightest idea what has be- 
come of him. No one knows but Captain Christian, and 
he is the last jierson to whom they would have thought 


LADY MURIEL’S SECRET. 


of tu.'iiing for information. Since Patty and Joe have 
left, peace has been re-established in the works, where 
Brumean, under Lady Muriel’s patronage, reigns su- 
preme, and Patty, hearing this, remains quietly at Dale- 
ford. She will not go over ’to Arundale to stir up old 
memories and annoy herself, she thinks, but wait for the 
next issue; and save an occasional visit from Mrs. Marks 
or Elsie Bligh she has not seen any Arundale people 
since she left. 

Now as she is standing by the door, half hoping that 
being Saturday Elsie will come and warm her heart a 
little with some Arundale talk, she sees Miss Yorko 
walking along a path which winds down from the house 
round by Father Fenwicke’s mill. She had almost for- 
gotten Miss Yorke during the last week or two, but now 
she wonders how it is she has never seen that young lady 
since the morning of her dismissal from the works, and 
she is not at all sorry that she is coming now. 

“ Good afternoon,”' miss. So you have found me out in 
mv new quarters,” she says, as Bertha approaches. 

Yes, Patty, and I iim glad you seem to have such 
comfortable ones. I should have been before, only ” 

‘‘You was set against me, miss, and told as I was a bad 
girl. 

“No, not exactly that,” answered Bertha. How could 
she tell Patty tha't it was all on account of the master’s 
favor that this persecution of her had arisen, and that she 
had been forbidden by Lady Muriel to pay the visit she 
would have liked to Pat tv? 

•Forbidden, forsooth! because it was against her own 
interest, she was told, to encourage this girl, who Lady 
Muriel declared was angling for Max Schippheim’s money. 
Bertha herself was very straightforward and laght-minded, 
and in her heart did not altogether believe this of Patty, 
yet having had it instilled into her not only by Lady 
Muriel, whom she worshiped, but by Christian, whom 
she loved, how could she do otherwise than waver in the 
faith she had been very much inclined to attach to Patty 
in the Srst instance. Hence her silence and long absence. 
Why, then, had she walked over to Daleford to-day. 
Lady Muriel, for some reason of her own, which she did 
not choose to confide to Bertha, had sent her. 

“It was as well to see the girl occasionally, and nnd 




84- LADY MUKIEL’S SECRET. 

out what was going on/’ she said. This might or might 
not be all her reason for starting Bertha off to Mrs. Bligh’s 
laundry. Of course Bertha thought it was, but then she 
was apt to be very trustful where Lady Muriel was con- 
cerned. 

The feeling, however, that she was acting the part of a 
spy on Patty, robbed the visit of all its charm — Patty, 
whom, if left to her own impulses, she would have re- 
garded almost in the light of a humble sister, so much 
was she impressed by her beauty and honest, simple man- 
ners. 

While she stood there looking rather like a culprit 
Patty went indoors and brought a chair from the ironing 
room. 

If she wasn’t set against me I wonder whatever it 
was as kept her away,” she thought to herself meanwhile. 

Patty, be it remembered, was a little inclined to do 
homage to the grand folk at the House, and it would have 
pleased her ambitious little heart to have Miss Yorke for 
a real friend. Patty felt she shoujd have liked her ever 
so much better than Elise Bligh; somehow she was not in 
the least shy with those above her in rank, as so many 
humbly born girls would have been. 

You’re looking a bit fagged and pale, miss; I hope 
you haven’t been ill,” said Patty, when she brought the 
chair. 

^‘No, not exactly ill, but rather worried.” 

Worried ! good gracious, whatever has a young lady 
like you to worry about? now if it was me.” 

Oh, 1 daresay you have not more cares than I have — 
we all have our troubles in every class. Heigho!” 

It was very evident that Bertha fancied herself very 
much in love, and girl-like was half inclined to confide in 
Patty, especially when she said very respectfully — 

‘‘ If it’s any trouble as I can in any way help you in, 
miss. I’ll be most happy. You’ve been real good tome — 
not turned me adrift when other folk were against me.” 

Bertha felt a little qualm of conscience, but she answer- 
ed pluckily — 

I wish to be true to you, Patty, it will be your own 
fault if I am not. I wonder if you will ever come between 
me and what I love most on earth.” 


LADY MURIEL’S SECRET. 


85 

Who, T? Good gracious. Miss Yorke, that would be 
quite impossible.” 

‘‘Not so impossible as you think, perhaps.” 

“If I only knew how I could injure you. I’d do every- 
thing I could to prevent it.” 

“I don’t think you would, Patty, at all events not if 
you feel as I do.” 

“Well, this beats all the riddles I ever heard. What- 
ever you mean, miss, I can’t think.” 

“No, I daresay not, but perhaps you will know some 
day.” 

‘* What you love most on earth sounds like a sweet- 
heart,” muttered Patty, half to herself, “yet I can’t see 
that a poor girl like me can have aught to do with your 
sweethearting,” Then a light seemed to break on Patty. 
“ ’Tain’t the French Mounseer, is it? ’Cause I don’t like 
him one bit, though he did come dangling after me when 
I was in Arundale.” 

“No,” answered Bertha, compelled to laugh at the bare 
idea. “ I never exchange a single word that I can help 
with M. Paul Arumeau.” 

“That’s right, for he ain’t much account either in looks 
or conduct, is he, miss? But whoever it can be I can’t 
think, and me to have anything to do with it too.” 

“ Well, never mind, Patty. I daresay it is all imagina- 
tion. Tell mo about yourself. How are you getting on 
here? Are you going to stop? Get another chair, and 
let us have a ciiat,” 

Patty did as she was bid, pleased that Mrs. Bligh and 
the household generally should see her in intimate con- 
fabulation with the young lady from the big house, and 
for a good half hour the two girls talked away quite at 
their ease, for Bertha referred no more to the puzzling 
subject with which she had begun the interview, and 
though it never wholly left Patty’s thoughts, yet she was 
too. much interested in talking to Miss Yorke to let them 
■dwell on it very resolutely. 

At last Bertha got up. 

“I must be off,” she said. “Lady Muriel always 
likes me to be there at five o’clock tea, in case visitors 
should call. You may as well walk with me round past 
the mill.” 


86 LADY M drill’s SECRET, 

Are you very fond of Lady Muriel?” asked Patty, as 

they got up. . n 

Devoted to her. If you knew how great and noble 
and good she is you would be devoted to her too. She 
passes all her time in doing what she can to help other 
people.” 

I suppose she is very fond of you?” 
think so. She is more like an elder sister than 
a cousin. Oh, if I could only fill my position in life 
as worthily as Lady Muriel does, I should be quite con- 
tent.” 

^MVhen you are married. Miss Yorke, you’ll be a kind 
mistress and a benevolent friend to those that depend on 
you. I hope I shall be one of them.” 

‘^You!” and Bertha uttered a little cry, which she 
tried to turn off with a laugh, by saying: Fancy your 
ever being dependent on me, though if my dream should 
ever be realized it may be so. Good-by, Patty. I’ll come 
and see you again some day.” 

She was gone without further words, leaving Patty 
standing there with wide open eyes and a stare of utter 
bewilderment on her pretty face. Captain Christian!” 
she exclaimed as soon as she had watched Bertha out of 
sight, he is the man, there ain’t a doubt about it. Poor 
Miss Bertha! well, I’m as sorry for her as if she was my 
twin sister, though whatever she can think I have to da 
with him, I don’t know! and she so devoted to Lady 
Muriel, too. Well, some folks is blind.” 

And Patty sat down on a large stone to think the mat- 
ter out after her own crude, honest fashion. If Lady 
Muriel imagined that her flirtation with the senior part- 
ner’s nephew was unknown to the people of Arundale she 
was evidently quite mistaken, since Patty saw at once that 
the existence of Lady Muriel would be a serious obstacle 
to Bertha’s happiness. Patty had become wiser on many 
subjects since the day she first saw Christian in the Dale 
House carriage. 

For a very long time Patty sat on the stone thinking. 
She had naturally a clear brain, but it was scarcely devel- 
oped as yet; only educated after the fashion of Board 
Schools; hearing nothing but the petty quarrels and 
grumbles of the Arundale workers sIkj had scarcely had 
much chance. This labyrinth of circumstances then, into 


LADY MULIEL’S SECRET. 


87 


■which she seemed since her grandmother’s death to have 
been thrust, was almost more than she could see her way 
through. She, however, fully comprehended that she 
was destined to play a different part in life from that 
which she now filled, and she was determined to show, if 
possible, that she could be both capable and honest. It 
would be a severe trial, that struggle which Patty would 
have to make from the darkness of ignorance into the 
light of knowledge; but latent within her, though she 
could not gauge them herself, there were the necessary 
qualifications — natural tact, honesty, perseverance and 
ambition. 

What abler attributes to be found wherewith to mold 
a noble character? For the present, images of all the 
people with whom her lot in life seemed more or less re- 
motely to have been cast, seemed mixed up in a sort of 
jumble in her brain. The only panel that stood out in 
relief among those brain pictures was that on which was 
painted life size Max Scliippheim, the senior partner. 
The others might all be true or false, she scarcely knew 
which they were, but about him she had no doubt; he 
was noble and straightforward and true, and she felt cer- 
tain he would always be her friend. 

It was a month since he had gone away; she had heard 
nothing of or from him, but she did not believe in him 
any tlie less for that reason; though as she sat trying to 
puzzle out the future as it had become more involved by 
Bertha’s hints about Captain Christian, she wished- with 
all lier heart that the master would come back and let her 
look with his long-sighted eyes on to some of the distant 
ranges. It is no good. I can’t make it out at all. I 
never even spoke to Captain Christian, though I suppose 
it’s because of him Lady Muriel hates me,” she said, at 
last, jumping up as she raised her head from her bended 
knees, and saw the sun already setting behind the western 
hills. Mrs. Bligh’s tea will be over this long while. 
Mercy, what a time I’ve been sitting here idle.” She 
was just starting to run off at a brisk pace when she 
stopped suddenly and uttered.a cry of joy. 

Slax Schippheim was coming over a little footbridge 
which lay across the milLstream. 


88 


LADY xM URI EL S SECRET. 


A- 


CHAPTER XIV. 

‘^AKY ONE BUT YOU.” 

Bertha sped very swiftly along the narrow pathway 
after she left Patty, partly because she feared she was 
late, partly because she was carried away by her feelings. 

All the good and the true in Bertha’s warm-hearted 
nature had been awakened during her recent interview 
with Patty. Overflowing as she was with spontaneous 
affection, happy in the recently attained knowledge of 
Christian’s love for her, she could scarcely believe in the 
existence of evil in any one, much less in Patty, who had 
unwittingly imbued her with a deep sense of the poor 
factory girl’s candor and honesty. Up the hill to the 
House she almost flew, caroling meanwhile softly to her- 
self like a young bird, of which she perforce reminded 
one, into the copse where she had met Christian on that 
never-to-be-forgotten morning. In that sacred grove she 
would fain have lingered for awhile and dedicated a few 
minutes to the memory of that hour, but time would not 
allow of loitering she fancied, so she still ran on in the 
deepening twilight, without giving due heed to her bound- 
ing steps. Suddenly she caught her feet in a fallen sap- 
ling which lay across her pathway, and fell prone with a 
cry of pain. 

For a moment or two she lay there quite motionless, 
then overcoming a feeling of faintness by the sheer effort 
of her will she made a vigorous attempt to get up. It 
was, however, fruitless; the agony she experienced in the 
instep of her left foot was so intense that she could do 
nothing but roll over on her side, and remain tranquilly 
there with a bough of a prostrate tree for a pillow, till, as 
she hoped, the first anguish would pass and she might be 
able to pursue her way. 

For nearly a quarter of an hour she remained there, her 
sensations, as it were, blunted, half-unconscious in pain- 
exhaustion, a sort of vague wonder as to how she was to 
get home flitting across her mind every now and again, 
to be succeeded by a lassitude she could not overcome. 

‘‘Am I to remain here, perhaps all night? Will no 


LADY MUIUEL'S SlX’llET. 


89 


one find me?” she murmured, though still, mercifully, the 
exhaustion she experienced was too complete for her to 
feel any great terror. Besides, was not even now help at 
hand? There was a sound of voices, and Bertha was just 
going to cry out for assistance when something in the 
tone of tjie speaker arrested her attention, and faint, 
pain- stricken though she was, she raised herself into a sit- 
ting posture, and strained every nerve to listen. 

It was Lady MurieFs voice. 

“ Oh, Christian, you cannot mean that you really in- 
tend to go away — away for months, perhaps years.” 

Christian going away! No, it was not possible, and 
spell-bound as by a strong fascination, Bertha did not at- 
tempt to stir or cry out, but listened on, each word 
Christian uttered burning into her heart like' a brand of 
fire. 

do not see that there is any other course open to 
me,” he said. I have led this life of duplicity long 
enough; both for your sake and mine, Muriel, it is right 
that it should end.” 

^‘How selfish you are!” she cried. You are only 
thinking of yourself in this matter. You will gd abroad 
in another regiment, you say, and very soon, I suppose, 
be taken up with some other love; in fact, you may have 
one by this time for anything I know; while I — oh, 
Christian, I cannot think how you can leave me here a 
victim to Herbert Alston’s platitudes.” 

‘‘ You married him; you did inyt think of me then,” he 
answered, bitterly. 

For money, yes. I only did as many another poor 
girl of a noble race has done before me. I married him 
as much for the sake of my family as my own; but I 
always loved you the best. However, it is useless to 
recapitulate all this again; we have discussed it so often.” 

Too often, yes. When you married Herbert Alston, 
Lady Muriel, we ought to have parted for ever.” 

^‘My dearest Christian, what has happened; who has 
said anything? why are you taken with, this conscientious 
qualm? I am sure Herbert is perfectly contented; to 
possess the bare name of Lady Muriel is quite enough for 
him.” 

It may be so. I have no wish to analyze Herbert’s 
feelings. All I say is, this state of things cannot go on 


90 


LADY Muriel's secret. 


for ever. For a man acting the part I have been doing* 
of late, it seems laughable to talk of honor. Still I have 
a shred or two remaining, and they ” 

But Lady Muriel would not let him finish, 

^‘Itis absolutely absurd to talk in this fashion,’’ she 
cried; if you had one spark of the old love for me remain- 
ing you would never think of leaving me. You could not, 
Christian, if you cared for me even one half as mucli as I 
do for you ” — and the last portion of Lady Muriel’s sen- 
tence was almost indistinct from choking tears. They did 
not seem to touch Christian, however. Strange how 
quickly love can be turned anigh to hate in a man’s heart 
when the image of some other woman intervenes! He 
answered quite sharply. 

‘‘I am a moral coward, I know, or I should long since 
have released myself from the shackles that have been 
weighing me down with self-upbraiding for tlie last three 
years.” 

Tell me, Christian, do you love me now as deeply, as 
fervently, as you did when these shackles, as you call them, 
were first woven about you?” 

‘‘The flight of time renders it difficult to gauge love, 
Muriel. If I had not had a strong, deep love for you I 
should scarcely have ” 

A cry of some one in great pain made them both look 
round and stand still for a few seconds to listen, but they 
saw no one, heard no more. 

“ Who— what could if have been?” 

“Some animaT> probably,” suggested Lady Muriel. 

“ Is 0, I think it was a human voice.” 

“ Some child, then, down in the village; the}'^ are al- 
ways shrieking and making a noise.” 

“Listen, perhaps we shall hear it again.” 

But all was silence; save the twittering of the birds in 
the trees, the buzzing of the insects in the bracken, there 
was not a sound to be heard. 

And Lady Muriel and Captain Christian went on their 
way to the House, where they expected to find Bertha pre- 
siding at the five o’clock tea-table. 

Whether they pursued the conversation that had been 
going on in the copse Bertha never knew. As it was, 
she had heard niore than her bewildered brain could 
stand, and having given utterance to that one bitter 


LADY MURIEL'S SECRET. 


91 




lieart-cry, she lost all consciousness of what was going on 
around. 

Six o’clock passed, seven o’clock, and Bertha did not 
return home. It was already growing dark, and the dress- 
ing bell for the half-past seven dinner had rung some time 
since. 

Ijady Muriel was growing irritably anxious; she was 
fond of Bertha, and would deeply have regretted any mis- 
hap that might have occurred to her, nor was she in any 
very patient humor, her late conversation with Christian 
considered; only impatient, however, not unhappy. She 
had too great a credence in her own powers to think for 
a moment she would not eventually make Christian do as 
she wished; of course, she never associated Bertha in any 
degree with the matter, or she would not, talking to 
Christian, who was writing in the study, have said — 

Do you know Bertha had not come back from Dale- 
ford yet, where she went to see Patty Urske? I wish I 
had not let her go. She must have fallen in with some 
of the workers, and being alone may have had a fit of 
nervousness, and taken refuge somewhere.” 

“Bertha! my God!” and before Lady Muriel could say 
another word he was out of the house, running down the 
liill to Daleford by a steeper but shorter path than that 
Bertha had taken on her way home. 

Had he taken the longer one he would have met her 
laboring along through the copse with halting, stumbling 
steps and a pallid paiii-stricken face, not overcome, how- 
ever, so much by physical as by mental agony; her sprained 
foot hurt her as she tried to use it in no limited degree, 
but what she experienced by this discomfort was as noth- 
ing in comparison to what she felt as she thought of the 
revelation that had recently burst so unexpectedly upon 
her. 

When the gathering dews of evening, by refreshing, 
had aroused her from her faintness that had come over 
her after uttering that cry, her first idea was that she had 
been experiencing a horrible night-marish dream; then, 
thoroughly collecting her scattered senses — 

“It is too true,” she exclaimed, “all, all too true!” 

Lady J\Iuriel, her divinity, her goddess, unveiled and 
found of clay, the very pedestal on which she had placed 
her thrown down and shattered in the dust. 



92 


LADY MUKIEL’S SECRET. 


It was a rude and rutliless annihilation of the worship 
of her life— a hitter disappointment from which, never, 

[ during all the future years she might have to j^ass, would 

i she recover. 

L Had a man been false to her she would probably have 

j taken it less to heart in a certain sense. 

[. But tliis woman, this idol, this saint-like, perfect Lady 

h Muriel, tliat she should be a defaulter in honor, rectitude,. 
i even perhaps in virtue, was more, far niore than Bertha 
f; could grasp, without her mind becoming well-nigh un- 
[ hinged at the bare thought thereof. 

j; It seemed as if her faith in everything pure and noble- 

i had been tom from her all at once. If Lady Muriel were 
I false, who, then, was true? 

; This wife, this mother, in love with Christian — her 

I Christian, her lover! The thought was too horrible; and 

i then the equivocations, the lies about his intended mar- 
riage with herself crowded on her, seeming to dance about 
V her reeling brain like grinning furies. Oh, she would go 

5 mad, she knew she would — there, all alone in that drear, 

; ghostly wood, for the long shadows rising about heron 

t all sides, helped to fan her imagination into a fact. If 

I she died in tl:^ effort she must get home. 
f Home! and she shivered from head to foot as the 

I thought of home brought back the image of the presiding 
} deity of that home. 

I But bodily weakness prevailed, and, much as she 

{ dreaded meeting Lady Muriel, she felt she must go back 

‘t and obtain at least shelter and rest for the night. It took 
her along time to reach the house. More than once, 

I well-nigh vanquished, she sank down half fainting by the 

^ way; then, summoning fresh courage, she again pro- 

ceeded for awhile. 

( When she did arrive it was quite dark. Christian had 

I not returned from his vain search for her, and Herbert 
Alston, growing alarmed, had followed him down into the 
village. Lady Muriel, even, had put a wrap over her head 
and was wandering about in front of the house, too rest- 
less to remain in doors till Bertha was found. It was 
q there that they met in the darkness; but nothing but a 
long wailing cry burst from the girl’s parched lips when 
Lady Muriel, taking her into her arms, almost caiTied her 
e, as over and over again she repeated — 



\ 


93 * 


LADY MURIEL’S SECRET. 

My dearest, my poor, poor, deareSt Bertha, how did 
you manage to hurt yourself? You shall never go out 
again by yourself.” 

She laid her on the drawing-room sofa, sent the butler 
to fetch the Ai-undale doctor, the maid to bring restora- 
tives and a hundred necessaries — in fact, was at the same 
^ ; time, loving, affectionate, and practical. 

Meanwhile, Bertha did not respond; she lay there like 
a log, and let every one do exactly what pleased them. She 
; had not addressed one word to Lady Muriel since she 

came in. 

‘ “If they would only let her die,” she thought. “Death 

would be preferable to Lady Muriel’s presence now.” 

: At last she heard Christian’s voice; another instant, and 

he was in the room, asking Lady Muriel, in an excited 
way*, endless questioQS about Bertha. 

She trembled from head to foot as he spoke. 

“ How dare he ask about her? How dare Lady Muriel 
answer him?” 

When the doctor arrived, he advised that she should at 
^ once be carried up to bed, and a soothing draught should 

be administered; then Christian’s strong arms were offered. 

“ I will carry her up so carefully.” 

“ You! Not you— oh, any one but you!” cried Bertha, 
recoiling from him as though he had been some dangerous 
V wild beast. 

“ Not Christian? AVhy, Bertha, dearest, not let Chris- 
tian carry you up-stairs?” 

It was Lady Muriel who put the question, in her softest 
voice. 

“ Because — because T never wish to see either you or 
Christian again!” shrieked poor Bertha, driven almost to 
’ frenzv by what she had undergone. 

“ My darling, terror has bewildered you,” Christian 
■ whispered, in a tone Lady Muriel could not hear, as he 

leant over the sofa, and without more ado he took Bertha 
up in his arms, and carried her out of the room. 


I 

i 


'94 


LADY Muriel’s secret. 


CHAPTER XV. 

THE TRAMBERLEYS. 

^‘The parrot, the parrot!” shouts Mrs. Tramberley, 
gaining the top of the shabby staircase with that family 
pet and nuisance jabbering the most?;?flfZ a'jr^rojooiMionsense 
from a huge cage with bars like the ribs of a skeleton, 
which this matei-familias hugs in her arms. 

The first cab is just starting, for to-day the Tramberleys 
move to their new residence. 

^^No room!” retorts an untidy head, all that is visible 
of the eldest girl seated in that vehicle, and packed to Hie 
ears in bandboxes, furniture, bundles, and countless 
articles which defy description. 

Plenty of room, mum,” contradicts the rough basso 
of cabby, "who is always finding place for something more 
on the top. 

“’Cos vy,” he inwardly chuckles, “hit’s tuppence 
hextra ’cordin’ to lor.” 

And an interminable trio ensues — recitativo contrio — 
between him and the two ladies, with parrot obligato. 
The street, too, this bright August morning — it is -close 
to the Edgware-road — is full of idle boys and other loiter- 
ers, to whom noise of any sort is dear and contagious, 
while the drawing-room first floor front of the dingy two- 
windowed house presents a scene of the wildest confusion. 

Here Mr. Tramberley, wdio, like his wife, is tall and 
portly, very hot and very angry, is in high altercation 
with a burly and loud-tongued butcher, whom neither 
threat nor persuasion has ever induced to send in a bill 
during the three months the family has been liere, and 
who now, at the eleventh hour, appears with an exorbi- 
tant one, which he insists upon having settled without 
question upon the spot. 

“Pm well known in the neighborhood,” he storms. 
(He is, but how?) “ You ask the folks all round.” 

“ Then confound it, my good man!” roars Mr. Tram- 
berley, but the flesher heeds not. 

“I don’t want any stranger to come and ' good man^ 


LADY MUKIEL’s SECEET. 


95 


me. You’ve Iiad my meat. I wants my money,” and 
then suoni la tromba proceeds. 

Bobby and Willie, the two schoolboys who never seem 
to be at school, are having a game at cricket with a real 
bat and ball, and a sofa bolster for a wicket, while 
their numerous brothers and sisters cry, laugh, and scream 
all over the place. 

‘•Beatrix,” shouts the poor furious father, “will you 
stop your piano? I’m deafened.” 

Whereupon the third girl does stop for nearly three- 
quarters of a minute, filling up that interval by fielding 
at cricket. As a rule, no earthly power can persuade this 
female urchin to practice, but to-day, whether from re- 
morse for music- lessons wasted, or more probably prompted 
by that spirit of devilment which at times tempts the 
young to make confusion worse confounded, the little imp 
of thirteen has been hammering away at “ Trab, trab” all 
the morning, seeming to execute it chiefly with her fists 
and elbows. Two of the smaller children have evidently 
agreed to bawl for a prize upon the hearthrug, while the only 
nurse — of course an Irishwoman, with a voice like her 
national bagpipes — and the local slavey appear chiefly oc- 
cupied in exchanging stations at the top and bottom of 
the house, and screeching an intermittent volley of in- 
structions to one another through the well of the stair- 
case. 

Au infant in arms, Avho to-day is not in arms but rolled 
up, put away in a corner and forgotten in an upper bed- 
room, by its screaming plays the part of fifty fifes in this 
discordant orchestra; and in conjunction with Emmeline, 
the dowager baby’s rattle, the untiring bark of Dukey, the 
Tramberley dog, little Dicky’s drum, and little Chtw'lie’s 
trumpet forms a counterpoise to- the unfailing cat-calls in 
the street, for the windows are as wide apeu as the front 
door; and they altogether impart quite a fine Wagnerian 
balance to the infernal symphony, while the unbroken 
and thunder-like rumblings of omnibuses round the cor- 
ner supply its deep bass or foundation. 

Just as the noise storm was at its height, a man might 
have been seen approaching at a leisurely pace who, in his 
person and bearing, seemed a very spirit of peace come to 
quell the whirlwind. He looked about seven-and-twenty; 
his face was handsome and framed in soft light whiskers. 


96 


LADY MURIEL’S SECRET. 


which, like the hair, were very carefully trimmed. His 
figure and gait were exceptionally good, his dress was 
faultless. Indeed, the attire of this dandy, for such he is, 
and a good <deal more besides, makes the despair of his 
rivals. With nothing about it either grand or showy, 
nothing which to the uninitiated speaks of money, its 
merit is in the quiet perfection of material, cut, and fit. 
To take only one item, his boots. No patent leather or 
varnish ever invaded his precincts — those stocks-iii- 
trade of the cheaply-smart, which iire enough for a well- 
bred horse to ^'shy at.” The fine calf boots of the Hon. 
Felix Elton, for that is the name of this scientifically 
unadorned-adorned one, absorb the existence of a fellow- 
creature, and that creature not his valet, but a humble 
suffragon of the same. Yes, the trees,” the endless 
operation termed boneing,” the talent, elbow grease, 
and patience which go to this one feature of Mr. jSlton’s 
dress would fill a chapter. 

He moves in what is perhaps vulgarly called the first 
society, and is the second son of an earl, with a large fort- 
une from his mother, who, like his father, is long since 
dead. Elton, be it understood, is much too fine to be 
fine, and that is why we meet him here this morning. He 
reaches the doorstep, and does not betray the slightest 
surprise at the confusion or the din. He affects to see 
none of the persons who are rushing about, but knocks at 
the open door as if he never knocked at shut ones; then 
stands with his back to it. 

Miss Tramberley has had time to recognize the visitor 
from her cab, and buries even her head among the rub- 
bish. She knows she is not fit to be seen. 

Mr. Elton’s first summons not having been heard, he 
presently knocks a little louder, with the strange result of 
instantly plunging the whole household into silence. Such 
is the power in our rank-adoring middle classes, such the 
magic of anything aristocratic, that even a well-bred 
knock thrills men through and through. 

A dozen of the late noisy ones, some having peeped 
through the windows, some from tlie staircase, simul- 
taneousty and in stage whispers inform papa and mamma 
that it is Tom’s friend, the Hon. Mr. Felix Elton:^ 

‘‘Heavens, how unfortunate!’^ exclaims poor Mr. Tram- 
berley. 




LADY Muriel’s secret. 


97 


^ -r '''jEr.’''" 


“Not at home,” that “shut Sesame” of the shabby 
gentee], is out of the question. 

A gleam of hope! He may be only leaving a card. 

Nurse or the slavey? Which shall be thrust forward? 

All say nurse, but that ofiBcial, Hibernian though she 
, be, turns shy and won’t move. Slavey, then! Mrs. Tram- : 

i: berley with her own dirty hands knocks about Sarah ! 

Jones’ distraught locks and remains of a cap for a second i 

or two, under the insane idea that she is arranging tliem; I 

tears off the girl’s foul apron, but seeing what it reveals, j 

huddles it on again, and flings her into the passage to cn- i 

counter the great man. 

Is Mr. Tram berley at home?” he asks demurely, * 

‘‘ ’E be up-stairs; shall 1 call ’im?” replies the little 
London- savage. 

No, thank you. Show me up, please.” ; 

"'This ways, ‘'Honorable,” says the girl, for she has i 
heard pough about his rank, and she leads him up. 

During the above colloquy, strange to say, even the 
butcher has been temporarily subdued and smuggled away 
to the back of the back drawing-room, and the very par- j 
rot has stopped screeching, under the impression that he j 
: may learn a new note. i 

' "‘How do you do?” says Elton, shaking hands with his ; 

^ host. “ I’m afraid I disturb you, for I see you are mov- 
ing.” 

“ Not at all,” says Mr. Tramberley, trying to look at 
his ease, get the butcher’s row out of his features, and as- ' 

, sume his company manners. Won’t you sit down?” | 

A, Meanwhile the children, weaned from their various I 

sports, all stand round gaping at the visitor, as if he were , | 

a wild beast. This adds to the embarrassment of the ! 

father, who, however, hasn’t the slightest idea what to do J 
with them. 

Before Mr. Elton accepts a seat he says, smiling pleas- j 
antly at his entertainer and then at the children — 

“Pray forgive me, but these little people,” and he wins 
each young heart as he beams upon them — 

“Oh! that sweet aspect of princes!” i 

If they would not mind leaving us alone for a short > 
time; I — I have something I should like to speak to you 
about,” and there is a strange hesitation, even confusion 



98 


LADY Muriel’s secret, 


in this Adonis of god-like repose, a positive diffidence as 
lie says these few words, which finishes the bewilderment 
of Mr. Tramberley. 

Certainly, certainly,” stammers the latter; you seC’ 
we are rather U23side down.” 

Pm so sorry I intrude, but ” 

‘‘ Not at all. It isn’t that. I mean, as you remarked,, 
we hapi^en to be moving, but there is ifienty of time,, 
more than two hours before we need go, and — but jiray 
sit down ” 

And making a clean sweep of a chair that had only 
two feet high of books and papers piled upon it, he offers- 
it with a little flourish to Elton, who, this time, sits 
down. 

Children, run away,” said the poor parent, in a tone 
between command and entreaty — a tone that while it may 
inspire awe, he hopes, in his rampageous progeny, may 
not impress the visitors as being too im2:)olite; and the- 
little Tramberleys, being, like their parents, inveterate 
toadies and tuft-hunters — most children are — retired in- 
quite a well-bred manner, soon, however, to become noisy 
on the stairs. However, the doors, folding ones and all,, 
are shut, and the mysterious audience commences. 

The Tramberleys, though here introduced at their worst, 
are never, as a whole, a very interesting family. Still 
they are excellently good people in their way. To sum 
them up in a word, they are shabby genteel, and more- 
shabby than genteel. Always squabbling yet very fond of 
each other, perfectly honest and honorable, with excellent, 
hearts, they have only too much pride; without sense,, 
tact, or above all, breeding, enough to save that i^ride- 
from endless wounds and humiliations. 

The Tramberleys qua Tramberleys are simjfiy nobodies,, 
and it is their slender hanging-on to the upj3er ten that is 
the ruin of them. Mr. Tramberley is, through his mother,, 
third cousin to the Earl of Auchinlee, and his wife, 
though a Miss Davis, had a general for her grandfather. 

These connections, and the fact that they are Britons,, 
render their asinrations very high, making them content 
to be pauper gentlefolks rather than touch trade or em- 
bark in any business whatever. Luckily for them, tlieir 
whole fortune, seven hundred a year, is locked up in Con- 
sols and settled on their children, or it would long since- 


99 


LADY MURIEL’S SECRET, 

liave melted away. Still, they are always running in debt 
to the tune of a hundred or two, and then undergoing all 
kinds of shifts till the next dividend falls due. They can- 
not tell how it is, for they think theirs is a very gentle- 
manly income. To be sure, Mr. Tramberley, in preparing 
his budget, allows little or nothing for extras, and then he 
often pays between two and three hundred a year for 
house rent. Moreover, despite the proyerb, Three moyes 
are as bad as a fire,” the Tramberleys seldom execute less 
than three of these maneuyers during the year; always 
for admirable reasons, no doubt, among which a desire to 
retrench generally figures as prime motive. You see they 
me full of delusions of all kinds. For instance, they 
must always entertain those above them in position when- 
ever they think a social step is to be gained thereby. It 
never strikes either Mr, or Mrs. Tramberley that they 
have been invited to some decent house sheerly out of 
kindness for auld lang syne, or on account of a letter of 
introduction obtained. Heaven knows how, but that their 
entertainers, who are rich and well-placed, will not care 
to come to a miserable house to meet odds and ends of 
society, or people who are in none, and to partake of ex- 
temporized refreshments wretchedly served by a hired 
Tvaiter or two. 

It is this itching to entertain which makes the bane of 
so many climbers on the social ladder. To give a party 
or a dance is to publish a list of the people you ought to 
know, but do not. It is the absentees who are most con- 
spicuous. If you have lots of money — and without it, 
society is better left alone, it loathes the needy — if you 
'are rich and ambitious, stick to dinners of from a dozen 
to fourteen downward. 

Always supposing you have any talent for giving them, 
(they will do you more good than anything, for, as a rule, 
the straightest way to people’s hearts is down their throats, 
^ow it was at the Tramberleys’ awful parties that our 
■dandy had first beheld the family — a party made up of a 
few middle-class people like themselves, two or ' three 
decent individuals who, like Mr. Elton, seemed to be 
brought there by accident, having apparently lost their 
way, and finally of that lowest social stratum of all, dam- 
--aged nobility. 

Tom Tramberley, the eldest son, is in the Marines, and 


100 


LADY 3XUKIEL’S SECRET. 


he had, years ago, read with Elton at a certain well-known: 
Portsmouth crammers, at a time when he, too, had 
thoughts of going into the Life Guards. He had taken a 
great liking to Tom, who was three years his junior, and 
not without cause, for Tram berley though he be, he is not 
without a certain niceness of his own, which would merit 
some notice only that he has nothing to do with this his- 
tory. He is away at sea now, where we will leave him, 
but a month ago he was on leave, and, meeting Elton one- 
day in the park, the intimacy was soon renewed. As Tom 
knew nothing of society, he had listened to the family 
prayer and made a point of bringing his swell” friend 
to the parental wild beast show in the moldy little house 
in the moldy little street near the Edgware-road. 

Besides Tom, there is one Tramberley who is really 
nice, and whom we have not yet seen, for she is already 
at Cheltenham, gone on a visit to a horrid old aunt, who- 
bullies and makes a servant of her; and that is Angela, 
the second daughter, who is nineteen, and very pretty as' 
girls go. But then, Angey is, as it were, not a Tramber- 
ley, being a regular instance of a dove in a crow’s nest. 
Noise was never her element. She never, from the time 
she was quite little, felt at home with her own family. 
Her horrible old aunt, any refuge, however purgatorial, 
was preferable to the Tramberley foyer. Yet she loves 
her father and mother, every one of her brothers and 
sisters, very much individually. It is the family, the- 
way they go on to each other, the home, which Angey’s 
quiet, peaceful nature cannot brook. 

On the other hand, this said family adore her both in- 
dividually and as a Avhole. No other Tramberley is 
especially well favored. Her elder sister Lucy, the girl 
you saw packed up in the cab, is decidedly plain, and all 
the Tramberleys have long vaguely — they are always 
vague — looked to Angey to drag them out of the mire. 
By-the-bye, how is it that in an ugly family we sometimes 
find one beauty; in a set of stupid relations one bright 
member; and stranger and rarer still, as in this instance, 
in a vulgar family one sweet girl who is all refinement, 
and to use a hackneyed term, one of nature’s gentle- 
women. 

It was certainly and indisputably in the abstract the 
most wildly foolish thing of the Tramberleys to give that 


LADY Muriel’s secret. 


101 


last party of theirs at all. It was transcendentally idiotic 
to invite Mr. Elton, that being the likeliest way of part- 
ing him forever from Tom, to whom his great social 
influence might be of great use. And yet — and yet — as 
things turned out — 

‘ ‘ It only shows 
One never knows, 

Tra la la, la la la.” 

Needless to say how hunted down and stalked to death 
the exquisite Elton had already been by those cruel Nim- 
rodesses, the London mothers, heartily seconded,, in this 
case by endless packs of lovely daughters, and eke of 
plain, each individual of whom longed to pull down the 
noble quarry. Yes, he had been coaxed, smothered by 
Mllet doux and invitation cards, even bullied and driven 
into corners. His pride had been appealed to, his admir- 
ation, down to his very pity! In a word, the whole scien- 
tific gamut had been sounded, and all the time-honored 
changes had been rung in vain, 

Elton was not merely too clear-sighted to be caught; it 
may even be said that he was very unjust, for he failed to 
make reservation in his cynical estimate of girls of the 
season in favor of those exceptional ones who bring gen- 
line wares to the great matrimonial bazaar. 

To him, spoiled as he was, all were alike; that is, all like 
uhe worst. 

Oh, you are everything I please just now,” he would - 
exclaim in his self-communings, but if I want to know 
what any one of you would become directly I married her, 

I have only to turn my eyes to the young wives who sur- 
round me. They too, make a great deal more of me than 
those hooked and landed fish, their husbands. Some 
elope with other men, some are satisfied to stay and an- 
noy their liege lords by every means in their power. 
What if I mari-ied the sister of my lord marquis, who to- 
day played the humble so bewitchingly! As soon as she 
found herself Lady Clara Elton she would, ten to one, 
take good care to make me feel she had thrown herself 
away upon a commoner, and done me a never-to-be-for- 
gotten favor in accepting me!” 

In short, it has long been his dream to marry some 
young lady who was not in society, although fit and long- 


m 


LADY Muriel’s secret. 


ing to be so; one who but for him would bloom un- 
seen,” and wither as the spouse of some other Mr. Trana- 
berley, unappreciating and but half appreciated — one, in 
a word, who on waking each morning for the rest of her 
natural life would say — 

Thank heaven and my husband, I am Mrs. Elton!” ^ 
But where was this child of fashion to meet with his 
unfashionable dream? In the street, or in some other 
public place? He could hardly speak to her if he did so; 
and should she so far forget herself as to reply, such con- 
duct would put her at once out of court. In the whole 
social range — and no one went up and down it more 
pcrseveringly than Eelix Elton, from the bright mount- 
ain tops even to the secret of the valleys — there was but 
one section which he ever and inevitably skipped, and that 
was the Trambelian. A duchess often visits the home- 
stead of the farmer, the cottages of the poor, but the cir- 
cumstances are hardly conceivable which should bring her 
to a party at such apetits gens as Angela belonged to. 

And so it needed that fate should weave even such a 
a web as Elton meeting Tom at the trough of learning 
taking a friendship for the boy, their running up against 
each other in the park years later, and Tom pressing the 
smart man” to come to the maternal bear-fight under 
domestic pressure — it required all this unlikely and elab- 
orate machinery of Felix Elton to meet with Angey 
Tramberley under conditions in which he might legiti- 
mately accost her. 

What an artificial world it is! 

Angey being the ‘‘show” offspring of the family, it is 
needless to say that Elton had not been three minutes at 
the party when the poor girl was hr ought up to him and 
introduced by papa and mamma simultaneously, both 
parents naively exhibiting the keenest curiosity as to the 
effect Angey should produce. Elton was always more un- 
demonstrative than a lamp-post in daytime and yet even 
ho could not control the admiration of his glance as it fell 
for the first time on this fair victim. 

Blushing in her beauty as she stood before him, with 
supporters more terrible than any pair of grinning mon- 
sters in the whole menagerie of the peerage, her depre- 
cating mien seemed sweetly to plead: — 

0 fair young knight, take me as I am, and perhaps 


LADY MUEIEL’s SECKET. 


103 


you may endure me in spite 0/ these showman puffs and 
the mob which surround us.’’ 

And he took her at her unspoken word. How he man- * 
aged it, in that crowded room, no one ever knew — Angey 
least of all; but without seeming to do anything, and 
hardly to move, he contrived in a minute or two to be sit- 
ting with his little new friend in a corner behind a barri- 
cade of dowagers, and talking away as if they had known 
each other for years. Angey was really a delightful little 
thing not only to talk to but to contemplate. Have you 
never noticed a. disagreeable look that generally runs 
through very large families, of their having been supplied 
wholesale and in a hurry, before time had been taken to 
finish each individual? Plenty of raw material, but of 
somewhat coarse grain., W*ell,“it was present in the rest 
of the brood, but conspicuously absent in Angey. Her 
fiesh was firm and smooth like ivory, with just the faint- 
est soupQon of that creamy yellow, lacking which no beauty 
is ever brilliant by- night. Her hair, of a light, rather 
cold brown,< was abundant and silky. She had plenty 
of the flush of health, but this was seldom of the same 
depth for two consecutive minutes, revealing at once her 
singularly endowed and sensitive nature. The full hon- 
est eyes were just as blue as blue could be— a common 
color to hear of but the rarest of all to see — and bordered 
all round by long lashes darker than her locks, and, like 
them, full of curl. But to many Angey’s distinctive 
charm was the extraordinary fineness of her skin and the 
purity of her complexion. 

Angey had opposed with all her might the project of 
bringing Elton to their ‘^drum.” 

If he cares about Tom,” she had said, ‘^enough to 
help him at all he will do it all the more for not being 
teased to come out of his own set to be bored at an out-of- 
the-way little party like ours.” 

She was a power in the family, but notwithstanding she- 
was out- voted in this momentous question, and to-night 
she is glad that it was so. 

Suppose we sit down here,” Elton had said to her af- 
ter the first few words had been exchanged. It was neither 
an order nor a request, but she felt that if for any reason 
she wished to decline — and there was none — she could nob 
have done so. From their first contact her new friend 


104 


LADY Muriel’s secret. 


seemed to control her will, yet without purposely exer- 
cising his own to influence her. 

^‘lam afraid,” she said presently, ''you will have a 
stupid evening, but I dare say you are going on to other 
places. I see by the Morning Post there are three balls 
to-night.” 

" Do you read the Morning Post P’ 

" Always, and wonder if I shall get a peep at the fetes 
it talks of.” 

"You do not go out much, then?” 

"Nowhere — nowhere of that sort. We know none of 
the right people; how should we? And fortunate too, 
for how could we afford the life?” 

"Yes, society is a funny thing,” said Elton. "It is a 
game, and great fun for those who are in condition to 
play it.” 

" How do you mean?” 

"Why, to play any game with interest, it must not be 
too easy. All the people I have ever known who really 
care for society are those either struggling to get into it, 
or else to improve the position they have conquered, or at 
all events to maintain it against great difficulties. Eob 
the battle of its heartburnings, jealousies, wild holies, and 
bitter disappointments, and its whole zest is gone. The 
moment 'going out,’ as it is called, becomes a mere mat- 
ter of duty, or at least of kindness, and, you can take my 
word for it, a greater bore does not exist.” 

" Do you know I have sometimes suspected it? I al- 
ways think” — and she laughed a low laugh and broke 
off — "but it is so foolish.” 

" Let me judge of that.” 

"In my favorite Morning Post the scroll on which 
^ Fashionable World’ is written byway of a heading is 
twined and almost buried among thorns and brambles, 
with, oh! only such a few roses, and those you could not 
pluck without tearing your hands. Well, I often won- 
der — but of course it isn’t — I often wonder whether the 
little vignette, which I know well enough professes to 
represent the rose, shamrock, and thistle of the three 
kingdoms, does not really cover some cynical jest.” 

It was Felix Elton’s turn to laugh now, and the thought 
seemed so simple he wondered it had never struck him 
before. 


/ 


LADY MURIEL’S SECRET. 105 

“ You have an imaginative little mind,” he said, ^*bv 
which I. don’t mean that it is little at all, if you see the 
paradox. But to pursue the subject of gayeties, two of 
the ball givers have been good enough to ask me to- 
night.” 

And shall you go? Of course you will.” 

1 think not.” 

But why?” 

‘^For a reason I must not tell you.” 

^^Do.” 

‘‘ I said I must not. Not I would not.” 

I am dumb, but lost in wonder.” 

I will — I think I will tell you some day.” 

Oh, I thought I should never see vou again,” 

<^Why?” 

It is so unlikely.” 

May I not call?” 

“ Oh, I forgot that,” and Angey thought of the domi- 
cile in its undress, and changed the subject. “ Let me 
see, supposing you did go to Hanover House to-night — I 
suppose — how would you get there? In a carriage, of 
course.” 

‘‘Yes.” 

“In what sort of carriage do — does — a man like you go 
about at night! Oh, I know — a brougham.” 

“ Precisely. But why do you say this?” 

“I always have to go in a cab, that is why; and it 
takes all the gilt off the gingerbread. Is your brougham 
waiting now?” 

“ Yes, I hope so. I told it to.” 

“ I have seldom been in even a hired carriage. We 
can’t afford them, and never, no, I think never, in a real 
■first-rate private one. My eldest sister has though and 
she says it is so strange the noisy streets seem quite silent 
with tlie glasses up and there is no shaking at all. What 
is your brougham lined with? Satin?” 

“No, blue leather,” laughed Elton, much amused. 
This was all so new to him, and quite in tune with his old 
dream. “And now tell me, shall you be in town all the 
season? Your brother told me, I think, before he went 
away, that you were contemplating a move.” 

“ Yes, we are always moving,” said Angey, with an un- 
conscious sigh. “lam going on a visit to my auntSarals. 


106 


LADY Muriel’s secret. 




J 


li 


at ChelteDliam the day after to-morrow, and the others 
follow next week — not on a visit to her, but to stay at 
Richmond, where they have taken a house.” 

‘^Dear me! I am sorry you are off so soon. 

He spoke the common-place words haif absently, yet so 
palpably for his own sake, not for hers, that their sin-' 
cerity quite startled her as certainly no elaborate and 
accentuated sentence could have done. She looked up at 
his handsome face with her great candid eyes, and said 
simply — 

That is very kind of you.” 

‘‘ I am sorry,” he went on, speaking, however, as a man 
does when he knows he had better remain silent, for was 
he not going too far for the first night? A.nd it upsets a 
little plan I have been forming about you.” 

About me?” 

Y-yes. Oh, only a moment ago. I did not mean to 
tell you to-night, I haven’t — I don’t know you well enough, 
and now you are going away makes my project impossible, 
so I will not give you the trouble of hearing about it.” 

‘‘And have you no pity for a woman’s curiosity? Don’t 
you want me to sleep to-night?” she said smiling play- 
fully. 

Felix Elton bit his lips. He did not often let them 
run away with him. 

“You see,” he went on, “so much depends on the 
manner of doing things; above all, on the lapse of a little 
time. To blurt out what I thought of here — now — the 
very first time we meet, would be preposterous and noth- 
ing short of a great liberty.” 

“ He take a liberty with her,” she thought. She knew 
him well enough already to guess that she was very likely 
to esteem his liberty an honor. She said, “ Well, but I 
understand. It is not you who volunteer what you are 
going to say; it is I who ask you as a kindness not to 
tantalize me.” 

And so, after a little more pressing, he told her that he 
too had an aunt — the kindest, sweetest old 'lady, who of 
all his relations spoilt him most, and whom he could in 
fact twist round his thumb— an aunt. Lady Follitt by 
name, who having married both her daughters was in 
great want of a young and attractive excuse for still going 
to balls, which she delighted in, and who would have 


LADY MURIEL’S SECRET. lOT 

jumped at the chance of being introduced to Mrs. Tram- 
berley to solicit the favor of being allowed sometimes to 
take out Miss Angela. He described the whole plan very 
charmingly— at least, so his fair listener thought — and 
ended by saying, with a very tender glance indeed, though 
this she did not quite see, as she was looking down a good 
deal at the time, but she felt it — 

And I thought if you would condescend to accept the 
post, what a particularly delightful excuse you would be.” 

Just as these two young people were getting on so much 
to their natural taste as to become oblivious of all that 
surrounded them, Mrs. I'ramberley, under the impression 
that it was the imperative thing to do, came up with a 
dreadful City Knight’s wife in tow, and bending over an 
intervening row of people, roughly dispelled their dream 
with — 

‘‘ Mr. Elton — Mr. Elton, would you not wish to take 
some light refreshment. Let me introduce Lady Hooker. 
Will you take her down?” 

And Angey’s little spell of content was over for some 
time to come. 

After Elton had been some ten minutes in the dining- 
room and pretended — he is so well-bred — to consume a 
warm ice and some cool negus — all for Angey’s sake, and 
the little fox guessed it!— he handed my Lady Knightness 
up the narrow way which did not lead to heaven, depos- 
ited her upon the nearest chair, and slipped away. 

His other engagements sighed for him in vain that 
night. 


CHAPTER XVI. 

NOT A PEER. 

All this while Mr. Tramberley and his unexpected vis- 
itor have been left taking a preparatory glance at each 
other before opening their conversation in earnest. A 
task which evidently devolved upon the young man, for 
his host had not the slightest idea of what was coming, 
although as he afterward told his better half, he saw in 
a twinkling there was something up,” which set him all 
of a flurry, Xor did Elton, now they were alone, keep 
him long in suspense; he began — 


108 


LADY MURIEL^S SECRET. 


‘^Mr. Tramberley, I should not of course — finding yon 
so busy — prolong my visit another minute unless I had 
something important to say — important, that is, to my- 
self; for I have no idea in what light either you or — or 
any of your family may look upon the matter.” 

Mr. Tramberley bowed from the waist, and said, rub- 
bing his hands — 

Pray proceed.” 

I must beg you,” said Elton, to excuse the abrupt- 
ness of what I am doing because I felt obliged to take 
what little time there has been for reflection, and now 
you are on the point of leaving. Briefly then I have come 
to ask your leave to pay my addresses to your daughter.” 

And here the lover — for such an houPs intercourse with 
Angey had made him— blushed like a school boy. 

It is a way with fathers to imagine, under such circum- 
stances, that any words like these necessarily refer to 
their eldest female child, even when that child is forty 
and hideous. Mr. Tramberley in his turn grew scarlet 
from feelings too obvious to define, and utterly losing the 
little composure he had assumed stammered forth — 

‘‘ Indeed, sir, you do me — us — infinite honor, and I 
am sure our dear Lucy ought to feel flattered at so ” 

‘^Oh!” exclaimed Elton, with a sudden look of horror 
— he had forgotten the very existence of his future sister- 
in-law except as one of the numerous Tramberleys. 

Pardon me — most natural mistake on your part, of 
course, but it was to your second daughter I referred.” 

“ Oh, to Angey!” said the anxious parent in a tone that 
involuntarily replied, ‘‘Now, I understand. That is 
much less surprising.” 

“ To Miss Angela Tramberley, yes. Though I have 
only had the privilege of conversing with her once I am 
quite resolved on my side to ask her to be my wife, if no 
I insuperable obstacle should prevent it.” 
i “Prevent it!” said the father, his face falling at the 
i thought. 

I “ Yes, I might very easily fail to win her heart, or per- 
1^: haps, even your consent.” 

Oh, as to that,” — put in the other relieved. 

“ My dear sir, you cannot tell until you have kindly 
j listened to what I have to sav. I need hardly point out 
n to vou how Vfirv far better it "is that any difficulties— any 




LADY MURIEL’S SECRET. 


109 


obstacles, surmountable or otherwise, to this union should 
be discussed and confronted now than later on.” 

My dear sir, in that view I fully concur.” Poor Mr. 
Tramberley, you see, was under that curious impression so 
general among his class, that great people always speak 
with a stilted and unconversationar diction, something 
like that of an official document, and he strove to adopt 
it himself on this occasion. He was too flurried to notice 
the utter simplicity with which the individual specimen 
of high life before him expressed his ideas. Elton pur-' 
sued: — 

The principal thing I have to say is not a pleasant 
one, and it will sound particularly hard and ungracious 
from having to be said in a hurry.” 

‘^Mr. Elton, I am thoroughly alive to the circum- 
stances, and shall make all due allowance, believe me. 
We are two gentlemen speaking frankly to each other.” 

Yes, but for all that it is not easy to say. However, 
I will do mv best. You might not unnaturally think 
that from my being what is called rich, from my living 
much in London, and — and perhaps other circumstances, 
that in the event of your daughter consenting some day 
to be my wife, she and I might be the means of introduc- 
ing her family to many of the people who give the prin- 
cipal entertainments in town, whose doings are reported 
in the Morning Post and Court Circular, How, from 
what I have gathered from my friend, your son, you have 
not for many years spent much time in London. He 
says, too, that you make no secret of the fact that you 
wish for some years to live quietly, with a view to putting 
by for the benefit of your children.” 

Mr. Tramberley, not quite seeing his interlocutor’s 
drift, thought it safest to emit an equivocal ‘'Hum.” 

“ But,” continued Elton, ‘‘ supposing you should, after 
the marriage, decide to live in London, and should wish 
to enter, through us, into that gay world of which I 
speak— and I do not say but what it would be most nat- 
ural — I feel bound to warn you from the first, for it is a 
point upon which, of all others, there must be the clear- 
est understanding, that neither I nor your daughter could 
do anything for you in that way.” 

Tramberley sat aghast. He was destined to pass from 
astonishment to astonishment to-day. He thought it, in 


no 


LADY MUEIEL’S SECRET. 


his heart, yery rude, and in fact, nasty of this young; 
swell who was asking for Angey as so great a boon, to 
couple his request with this, almost insulting condition.. 
At the same time, he was horribly afraid of offending. 
Elton by word or sign. 

At last he summoned courage to ask — 

‘‘ May I bo so indiscreet as to ask why ? Mrs. Tram* 
berley’s grandfather was General Smith. I am myself a 

consm of Lady JMuriel Alston ’’ 

Pray forgive my interrupting you, but it is not at all 
that to which I allude. She who has so deeply impressed 
me shows her gentle blood at every pore. What I mean 
is that it is practically impossible to mix sets. You may 
be almost royal, and yet if you leave London for a few 
seasons you will find on returning that you are nowhere 
and nobody, unless, that is, that you come with many 
devoted thousands in your pockets, take a palace, and get 
a duchess to invite your company: in which case, mind,, 
your former status might as well be niV^ 

‘‘ Am I to understand, then, that we are to see no more 
of Angela after she becomes your wife?” and as he chok- 
itigly said this the poor father’s eyes filled with tears. 

it was like offering a child a bun on condition it would 
agree to a sound thrashing. 

Elton was instantly deeply touched. He could never, 
for all his connections, have been the perfect prince he 
was but for the goodness of his heart. 

Nothing of the kind, nothing of the kind, my dear 
Mr. Tramberley, believe me. Of us you shall see as much 
as ever you like, and we of you in a quiet and intimate 
way* If my wife gave a ball, she would, of course, like 
to have a sister or two to enjoy it with her, her brother 
Tom, too, if get-at-able; but I feel bound to tell you that 
you and Mrs. Tramberly would not be asked any more 
than to large dinner j^ar ties.” 

Mr. Elton, everything that you have said requires 
consideration.” 

Did I not say so?” 

‘‘To be frank as you are, sir, I must tell you that my 
wife and I have always rather looked to Angey to lift us 
up some day. Eliza always said — Eliza is Mrs. Tramber- 
ley, sir — that the others would go off at small shots, but 
that Angela was destined for a peeress.” 


LADY MURIEL’S SECRET. 


Ill 


am no peer.” 

‘‘I am only telling you what Eliza said. I doubt, sir, 
on reflection, whether my daughter herself would like to 
wed any man who was ashamed of us.” 

‘‘ But, my dear sir, you misunderstand me.” 

No, I don’t, sir, believe me.” 

The fact is that Elton’s proposal now quite changed all 
good Mr. Tramberley’s views. That mythical coronet of 
his wife’s vaticinations had always till now seemed to him 
problematical in the extreme. But nowThe world wore a 
new aspect. If the Earl of Harborougli’s rich brother 
and heir presumptive had asked for Angey’s hand after 
seeing her once only, why should not marquises and 
dukes, by Jove! — yes, dukes, — pour down from Heaven 
henceforth like hail? 

It suddenly struck him that one advantage he could at 
any rate seize over his adversary, as he now mentally 
designated Elton, that of being the first to move the 
adjournment of the interview. Kising, he said to him, 
Elton having, of course, risen too — 

Yes, all this requires thought and counsel. Kindly 
give me your card. Thank you. I will confer with Mrs. 
Tramberley — with our dear child. In any case, believe 
me, Mr. Elton, I feel deeply the honor you are doing us. 
Your conditions are not flattering, although from your 
point of view the.y may appear necessary. I have no doubt 
•they do.” 

Most necessary indeed,” said Elton firmly, ‘^or I 
should not have pained you by imposing them. In every 
•other respect — settlements and all that— I assure you you 
shall be more than satisfied. Tell me by what day I may 
hope to hear from you.” 

‘‘Well, to-day is Wednesday — hum! — shall we say Mon- 
day?” * 

“Certainly. On Monday, then, I shall hope to hear 
from yon. Good morning. My best compliments to Mrs. 
Tramberley.” 

“I shall not fail,” said the other, resuming his little 
pomposity. 

And so the two shook hands and parted, Elton to thread 
liis way through the motley impedimenta^ living and other- 
wise, of the staircase, down and out into the street, as he 


112 


LADY .MU KIEL’S SECRET. 


gained which lie could not restrain the fervent, half- 
uttered ejaculation — 

''Yes, the little girl is an angel indeed; hut, thank 
Heaven, I’m not marrying the family!” 


CHAPTER XVIL 

SECOND POST. 

For three weeks Bertha remained a prisoner in her own 
room. She could not put her foot to the ground, and was 
altogether so ill that she seemed scarcely to notice any- 
thing that was passing around her. 

She seldom spoke to any one, except when circumstances 
absolutely enforced it, never to Lady Muriel, save in the 
merest monosyllables. 

Christian she had not seen since the evening ne carried 
her up stairs, and though during the first week of her 
illness she had been frequently told by Lady Muriel of his 
inquiries after her, she had evinced so little interest in 
the matter that of late his name had never been men- 
tioned, and she did not know whether he was still at Dale 
House or whether he had left England for foreign climes, 
as she had overheard him express his determination to do. 

At the end of three weeks Bertha was on her sofa, 
struggling through a weary convalescence. She could 
just manage to walk a few yards; but what puzzled her 
doctor and attendants was her most unjoyful state. 

She who used to be so bright-looking and full of young 
life, it was indeed sad to watch her as she lay pretending- 
to read a book, of which she scarcely ever turned a page, 
black rings about her gray eyes, her white cheeks sunken 
and higgard. 

What it could mean, unless she was dying, no one could 
understand, least of all. Lady Muriel, who displayed all 
the energy with which she was so richly endowed in her 
determination to be useful and do the best that could be 
done for Bertha, thus giving a not very unusual example 
of how some people will slay with one hand the very in- 
dividual on whom they are heaping benefits with the 
other. 

Meanwhile the only pleasure Bertha ever seemed to 


-> 

LADY Muriel’s secret. 113^ 

have, the only time she smiled, was when little Eric came 
to see her; she could not play and romp with him as she 
had once done, but she would let him lie beside her on 
her couch till he grew tired of quietude and would ask to 
go to his nurse. 

Once or twice there were traces of tears on Lady Muri- 
el’s face as she walked about Dale House with a stealthy 
step, and the servants who saw them observed to each 
other that, “'If there was a being on earth Lady Muriel 
loved, certainly that being was Miss Yorke.” 

They could not know that Lady Muriel had a private 
sorrow that distressed her even more than Bertha’s help- 
less state, and it was well, perhaj^s, that poor Bertha could 
be used as the screen behind which, as had been the case 
for some long time past. Lady Muriel’s most poignant 
phases of joy and sorrow could be hidden. 

Christian was the real cause of her deepest misery now. 
Christian, who, say what she would, was still determined 
on exchanging into a regiment on foreign service. His 
leave had expired two days after Bertha’s accident, and he 
had been compelled to go; but his letters of inquiry to 
Lady Muriel about Bertha were so closely veiled that she 
had failed to discover in them the deep love for her young 
cousin which these affectionate missives to herself con- 
cealed. 

Christian almost feared Lady Muriel, and he dared not 
be true wliile his darling was in this woman’s charge. 

His darling! He little knew with what contempt Ber- 
tha had learned to regard both himself and Lady Muriel, 
how she was fretting her young life away because in the 
two people she had loved best and trusted most on earth 
she had discovered falsehood and deceit. 

She is lying on the sofa in the sunshine with little Eric 
by her side; she is humming in a low tone to the half 
mesmeriaed child, a plaintive dirge-like melody, when 
Lady Muriel bursts into the room with an impetuosity to 
which she is prone, but which she has kept in a state of 
dead-locked subjection ever since Bertha has been ill. It 
can, however, be repressed no longer, and she cries out 
angrily— ^ 

“ Only think, Bertha, Mr. Schippheim has announced 
bis intention of marrying Patty Urske.” 

It was the first breath of outer air that had gained ad- 


114 


LADY Muriel’s secret. 

mission into the sick girl’s room for three weeks, and the 
sudden gust was such a strong one that it nearly capsized 
her frail bark. 

She became first so crimson-red, even to her very tem- 
ples, then so ghastly white, that Lady Muriel was quite 
alarmed, and regretted the temerity of her announce- 
ment, though why it should affect Bertha thus she could 
not conceive, except that she was too weak to bear any 
excitement. 

She snatched the child from the sofa, and put him on 
the ground, where of course he began to cry. Then she 
poured some -eau-de-Cologne on Bertha’s forehead, and 
fanned her till she opened her eyes. 

My poor, dear Bertha, I am sorry I told you. Yon 
are not well enough yet to be bothered with factory gossip. 
Don’t trouble, child. I daresay we shall find some means 
to put this nonsense out of Mr. Schippheim’s head; at 
any rate, we will try. Have some soup, Bertha dear, and 
don’t worry your little self. Eric, if you don’t leave off 
crying you shall not come and see cousin Bertha again.” 

^^Let me have the child, please; he will be quiet here.” 

Eric was put back into his position on the sofa, where 
he nestled down very peaceably, and then Bertha said — 

How I am all right, tell me what you know about this 
affair.” 

I think we had better wait till you are stronger,” 

‘‘No, Lady Muriel, I should like to know about it 
now.” 

“ Lady Muriel,” instead of “ cousin Muriel,” and the 
altered tone, surprised her ladyship, but she ascribed all 
Bertha’s unusual behavior to illness, and, nothing loath to 
say her say about Max Schippheim and his folly, ,as she 
called it, began a long and somewhat circumstantial ac- 
count of how this little brazen-faced minx had lured a 
good respectable man, as Max Schippheim had always 
been until now, into the paths of wickedness and destruc- 
tion, 

“ Getting all his money out of him and flaunting about 
and giving herself airs as if she were a queen. They say 
she is actually gotng to buy a share in Mrs. Bligh’s 
laundry, with money she pretends her grandmother left 
her; of course, it is Mr. Schippheim’s.” 


LADY MURIEL’S SECRET. 115 

daresay her Granny did leave her some money; she 
■was a provident old dame,” suggested Bertha. 

^ Don’t be so horribly trustful, Bertha— you always be- 
lieve every one. ” 

“Do I?” and Bertha turned her large gray eyes on 
Lady Muriel, who flinched just a little as she met their 
gaze, and hurriedly pursued the subject under discussion. 
“ Of course, it is Max Schippheim’s money.” 

“ But if he is going to marry her, what does hew^ant to 
put her into a laundry for?” asked I3ertha practically. 

“It is a blind, dear — a mere blind, in order to assert 
what they are pleased to call the girl’s independence — her 
dependence I should call it; but, of course, the marriage 
mnst be stopped; at all hazards it must be prevented.” 

“It will not make much difference,” half murmured 
Bertha. 

“No difference! My dear Bertha, you must be mad. 
It will ruin the factory, us, everybody, if that old idiot is 
allowed to marry a low-born hussy like that.” 

Bertha, under other circumstances, would have laughed 
at the idea of Lady Muriel calling the great senior partner 
^^an old idiot — Lady Muriel, who until now had ever 
regarded him more or less in the light of an oracle; but 
she did not even smile — only said very quietly — 

“ I suppose you would not have minded if he had mar- 
ried some one else — me — for instance!” 

“You! There never was any question of your marry- 
ing Max Schippheim — quite the contrary; but I suppose 
you are not aware that if Mr. Schippheim marries it will 
so seriously damage some one else’s prospects that it is 
doubtful if he will ever marry at all.” 

“ I do not think I shall ever marry at all,” said Bertha, 
in a very low voice, turning away, and hiding her face in 
the folds of Eric’s frock. 

“I suppose she thinks she is going to die. I wonder 
what we are to do with her,” was Lady Muriel’s mental 
remark, but she was wrong. 

Bertha felt very instinct with life; she was only 
blundering in semi -darkness, through the first stages of a 
great disappointment, making up her mind as she went 
along what her plan of life should be in the future; for 
that it should be changed she was quite determined. 

As long as she was a minor, and Mr. Alston had her 


116 


LADY MURIEL’S SECRET. 


money, she was more or less dependent on these people; 
yet, to live for four years on terms of friendly intimacy 
with Lady Muriel after what she had overheard in the 
wood that evening, was, she felt, more than she coul den- 
dure. Lady Muriel, for whom all her love was turned to 
hate, and whose very touch seemed to corrode her flesh, 
while her breath seemed to scatter poisoned words! 

She was glad when, after a time, Lady Muriel went 
away, and took little Eric with her; thus leaving her free 
to think over the piece of information she had just re- 
ceived. 

Personally, as matters were now, she did not see how it 
could especially influence her life, yet instinctively she 
seemed to know that if Max Schippheim did really marry 
the little gold-burnisher, a new era would commence in 
Arundale, an era in which Lady Muriel would scarcely 
,play a conspicuously pleasing part, Lady Muriel in rivalry 
with Patty the ex-hand! No, it was utterly incompatible; 
Lady Muriel had said she would prevent the marriage, 
and she would. 

But how? 

That Bertha did hot feel equal to consider, but she had 
known Lady Muriel long enough to be aware that she 
generally found the means of carrying her intentions into 
effect, nor, viewing Lady Muriel from the point at which 
Bertha had now arrived, did she perhaps think that her 
noble kinswoman would be very scrupulous as to the 
means. 

One thing, however, that morning’s conversation had 
made Bertha resolve to do; that was, to get better as 
quickly as possible. Her sprained foot was nearly well; 
that need keep her a prisoner no longer. She would like 
to see Patty, ascertain for herself what was going on in 
Arundale, and that she could only do by walking down 
there. 

In future Bertha meant to act for herself without ask- 
ing advice from anyone or looking up to anyone for guid- 
ance. Had she not learnt that you cau be sure of nothing 
in this world but deceit? Yes, during the last three weeks 
Bertha’s character had been slowly but surely developing, 
and the moment to take her actions into her own keeping 
bad arrived. She got up and limped to the window; not- 
withstanding her determination to be well, her limping 


LADY Muriel’s secret. 


117 


days wore not 07er yet, but she did not niiud that; her 
walking powers would soon return; if she could only get 
rid of the intense feeling of loathing which had taken 
possession of her of late, how much happier she would 
feel. It made her very wretched, not only to loathe those 
she had once loved the best, but to feel the bitter senti- 
ment extending to every one, who, according to her dis- 
eased fancy, pretended to be true and noble. For Bertha 
had not yet schooled herself into being utterly cold and 
heartless, though she stood on the threshold of the academy 
where cynicism and distrust are taught. 

It was a fair picture that on which she gazed, as she look- 
ed out of the window; but Nature in her fairest garb was 
powerless to awaken sympathy in Bertha’s heart that day. 
It was with her as though all softening influences slept, 
and it might be years before they were re-awakened, even 
if the happy hour should ever arrive. The very in 

the trees seemed to sing out of tune, and the flowers had 


lost their beauty. 

The letter-carrier with the second post came along the 
narrow path leading to Arundale. 

This carrier was a girl employed by Lady Muriel to 
bring the second letters from the post-office, bhe had 
lost one arm from an accident when she was a child, imd. 
this trifling occupation had been given her to help her 
widowed mother’s very modest wages. , , _ , 

This girl was a great pet of Bertha’s, and she dropped a 
courtesy* and looked vastly pleased when she saw the young 
lady at the window, very much disappointed too when 
Bertha took no notice of her, save a careless nod, not even 
asking her, as she generally did, whom the letters were foi. 

What did it matter to Bertha now whether those who 
called themselves friends wrote to her or whether they did 
not, since no one was true. The only letter, however, 
which the one-armed post-woman brought that day was 
for Bertha, and it was from a girl, who, after Lady Muriel 
and Christian, was the being she loved best m lite. bhe 
took it from the servant who, a few minutes later, brought 
it to her, and began to read it very mechanically. 


“ Barrack Grange, Richmond, Surrey. 
My dear Bertha,— I came back from Cheltenham into the noisv 
bosom ofmv tor umidy family only the day before yesterday, and 
the contrast^ between my aunt’s temple of silence and my present 


118 LADY M Uriel's secret. 

surroundings is almost greater than one can get over in a few days.. 
Tlie first thing I did on my return was to settle with papa and 
mamma about asking you to pay us that good long visit which 
something has always cropped up to prevent your doing these years 
past. They are delighted at the prospect, and hope you will come 
at once, and stay as long as you can endure the hugger-mugger and 
confusion. One advantage our present abode possesses over its 
numerous predecessors. It is tumble-down, vat-infected, dirty, 
dingy, hideous, and haunted; but, it is roomy. Even we cannot 
fill It. We are like articles in a half-packed box, and rattle about 
for want of padding. The room I destined for you looks upon the- 
great wilderness of a garden, and the only approach to it is through 
my own, so you will have a faithful sentinel to protect you nightly 
against all marauders, infantine, ghostly, or otherwise. We got the- 
place for a song, because the burglars have so often patronized it; 
papa says he has the true secret of keeping them away — electro- 
plate! simple, is it not? So, dearest Bertha, mind, come you must 
and shall. To save yourself all trouble about making up your little 
mind, write at once and ‘name the happy day,’ and let it not be 
later than the beginning of next week. Not that I can wait so long 
to talk to you, I have so much to say. I would not write from the 
Vale of the Chelt, because I hate talking to a pal like you — espe- 
cially on paper— of a thing that is not settled, at least when that 
thing may have to become a torn-dut page of one’s life. Well, now 
I have got back, the whole matter is as far from being arranged as 
ever, so I plunge into ink and confidence, and lay the whole vexed 
business before you. 

“ It is about a young man, if indeed that vulgar term may apply 
to such an exquisite as the Hon. Felix (I like the name of Felix, 
don’t you, my dear? It is so much less common than Charles and 
George and all those) Elton. Stop, I must write it all together. 
Hon." Felix Elton. Does it not look nice? Well, Tom brought 
him ; they have known each other for ages. Tom brought him to one 
of our awful parties, and we seem to have fallen'in love with each 
other directly. Of course he was the first to show he was touched ; 
the first to be nice to me, but I made no resistance, for I thought 
him simply charming, and do still; so would you. Bertha, if you 
do not say he was perfect I will do you some grievous bodily harm! 

I wonder what I shall call him if ever I’m his wife? 

“ Felix sounds so ‘ stand off!’ doesn’t it? But one couldn’t say 
Felixy. Well, that isn’t the chief difficulty, as you may suppose. 
He is Lord Harborough’s brother, and very rich, and the only ob- 
stacle is that he is too grand for us, and he knows it. Oh, not the 
least It’s so difficult to explain. He proposed for me to papa, 
and told him at once that he didn’t want to marry the family. And 
the family, including me, don’t know wdiat to make of this. 

“Felix — I mean Mr. Elton — says you can’t mix sets. I suppose 
he knows, but I do not understand it quite. The worst of it is, he 
keeps writing to 'papa for our united answer about the point, and 
says in every letter that if we won’t agi’ee to it the marriage is out 
of the question, and if I am not to be his he would much rather not 
see me again, as he^ is already too fond of me. Mamma is dread- 
fully annoyed at his way of going on. She says if he and I w'ere 


LADY MULIEL’s SECJiET. 


119 


thrown a p:ood deal together I could make him so in love he would 
agree to anything. Of course, Mr. Elton does- not want to separate 
me from them quite, but he wants to put it out of their heads that 
through us they can become part of the great world. Mamma says 
people will suspect there is something awful against them if Mr. 
Elton, after marrying me, keeps them in the background. Of 
course, all I can do is to wait and leave the ans,wer to papa and 
mamma. There is no merit in this, as it would be useless and 
absurd to do anything else. Still, I never;, thought that a girl who 
was the least bit nice could be so in love with a man she only saw 
once. 

“ To be sure, we talked for at least an hour, and then well, 

I never saw anyone like him before, and don’t believe such another 
-exists; but I will write no more, as I am to see you so soon. 

“ Dearest Bertha, 

Your loving 

“ Angey Tramberley.” 

All Bertha’s interest and warm affection for her friend 
was thoroughly awakened by the time she had come to 
the end of this gushing missive, and crushing it into the 
pocket of her dressing-gown as she thought she heard 
Lady Muriel coming up the stairs — 

I will go to Barrack Grange,” she said very decidedly 
to herself. 


CHAPTER XVIIT. 

COME BACK, 

Patty’s cry of delight when she saw Max Schipp- 
Reim checked a reproof which he had come prepared to 
ntter, and made his usually grave though kind face 
become suddenly radiant with smiles as the girl exclaim- 

0d , 

‘‘ My best friend, it will be all right now you have come 

back ” 

‘‘I returned last night,” he said, ^^and I have 
walked over here this afternoon to inquire the meaning 


She would not let him finish the sentence. 

Please don’t believe a word they’ve told you, sir. I 
have done nothing as you said I wasn’t to do. I 
couldn’t help Joe and Mounseer coming to blows and 
there being a row in the quadrangle. I didn’t ask ’em 


p-- — •* ' ".v.- 

1 ! 120 LADY Muriel’s secret, 

to do it, and I’m very sorry as they did,” and Patty begaiL 
to cry. 

- Max Schippheim, like most men, especially of his type,. 

■ could not bear to see a pretty girl in tears. 

He took her hand kindly. 

' ‘‘Don’t cry, mv lass. I haven’t said it was your fault, 

: have I?” “ . 

“No, sir; you’re much too good to me, but I know you 
I must think me vile and bad because all this has happened, 

but I couldn’t help it, indeed I couldn’t. Lady Muriel 
It thinks it’s me, and that I’m a bad hussy, which I ain’t, 

[' and Mr. Alston have told Mr. Andrews to send me away; 

but I can’t help it, indeed I can’t, and I said as soon as 
ever you came home I’d tell ,you the truth straight off. 
And Joe, he has gone and no one don’t know where he is, 
and I almost hope he won’t never come back no more, and 
Mrs. Bligh she’s took me in just for a little peace and 
quiet, and Granny, she have left me a little money which 
is in the bank, and please, sir, perhaps you’ll get it out 
for me, and I’ll set up in the washing line for a bit, and I 
don’t want to go back among they people as don’t believe 
I in me.” 

I Patty, in her excitement was not quite as particular 

; about her English as- she had been trying to be of late, 

; but Mr. Schippheim did not attempt to check this spon- 

taneous outpouring of a young heart which gushed forth 
in one unchecked torrent at the sight of him. He led her 
toward a felled tree which lay not far off, on which he- 
I ' made her sit down beside him as he said kindly — 

“My poor little Patty, you seem to have passed through 
a great deal of trouble since I left home.” 

- So the lecture he had been preparing all the way as ho 

^ walked from Arundale had melted into half-a-dozen sym- 

f pathetic words, the kindness in the tone of which made 

Patty’s tears break forth anew. Kindness always softened 
and subdued Patty’s character, while harshness only 
served to render her hard and unbending. 

“ Don’t cry, my child. Now I have come back I will 
see if something cannot be done to make you happy and 
comfortable.” 

“ Oh, I shall be happy enough now you’re come home, 
if you only say you don’t think as I was to blame; it’s that 
as has been worrying me, the thought as you’d be angry,” 


LADY MURIEL’S SECRET. 


121 


and Patty dried her eyes with the corner of her apron, and 
looked at him with a sweet, ingenuous face, from whicli 
he felt desperately inclined to kiss away the tear-stains, 
only he remembered just in time that he was the senior 
partner, and that this little girl, sweet and beautiful 
though she was, was only a discharged gold-burnisher. 
His next thought was — what did that matter, if he liked 
her? The necessity of class distinctions, except so far as 
they were imperative for keeping up discipline and organ- 
ization in his works, formed no part of Max Schippheim’s 
creed. 

He came of the people himselff he was wont to say, and 
one man was as good as another if he had the same 
amount of brains. 

Whether brains or beauty were the requisite quality in 
a woman, he had hitherto scarcely troubled to inquire, but 
assuredly, to watch the light in his eyes as he looked at 
Patty, it would seem that in this instance, at all events, 
he fully recognized the magic power of beauty. 

He did not kiss her, however; by ijie time he had 
argued the matter out with himself, the opportunity had 
passed for the moment, and he did not feel inclined to 
force it. He merely assured her that he was not angry 
with her, though very much annoyed that there had been 
so much trouble and turmoil during his absence, and then 
he got on to safer ground, asking her what money her 
Granny had left, and what she proposed to do with it,*^ 
seeming, too, quite to concur in her idea that a portion of 
it should be placed at Mrs. Bligh’s disposal, and that she 
should join that good woman as partner in the Daleford 
Laundry, which was a tolerably flourishing concern. 

And some day, I suppose, you will marry Joe Marks,” 
said Mr. Schippheim, after he had fully discussed the 
money question, and told Patty to bring him the necessary 
papers to the works on Monday morning. About coming 
into Arundale she rather rebelled, but she was told it was 
absurd to mind if now'’ that he was there to silence insolent 
timgues. Curious how seldom men see that their inter- 
ference usually only serves to heighten the pitch to which 
gossip has already attained. 

Patty’s dislike to returning to Arundale was, however, 
not expressed by any means in such unmistakable terms 
as those she used to disclaim all intention of ever marry- 


122 




LADY Muriel’s secret. 

iiig Joe Marks. To think that Mr. Schippheim should 
consider Joe a fitting match for her seemed to cue her to 
the very quick, rather to the amusement of the senior 
partner, who seemed scarcely to be as sorry for having^ 
annoyed her as the circumstances might have been sup-^ 
posed to warrant. This time taking her hand and raising 
it to his lips, he assured her she should marry no one she 
did not care for. Either Max Schippheim was very shy 
or he was thoroughly unused to women, for he luid not 
the faintest idea of taking a citadel by storm — a fact about 
which Patty’s astonished face might have told him some-,- 
thing. She had never ITad her hand kissed in her life 
before, and, for a moment she almost thought she was a* 
queen or a grand duchess. 

Max Schippheim noticed nothing, however, hq was too 
much taken aback by his own act of unwonted gallantry to- 
think of her at that moment, and having brought the in- 
terview to what he considered this unprecedented climax,, 
he got up to go away. 

Everything had turned out perfectly different from 
what he had intended and arranged, yet Mr. Schippheim. 
could not be said to be wholly dissatisfied with his even- 
ing’s walk. The sight of Patty seemed to have refreshed 
him as a weary man is refreshed by a draught of sparkling 
wine, and having bestowed on her a few more kindly, 
almost affectionate words, he went on his way, humming 
Softly to himself in the exuberance of sheer animal spirits 
as he walked along — never, so taken up was he with his 
own satisfied thoughts, turning back once to look at 
Patty. Hence he failed to discover that she did not stir 
from the seat where he had left her, but sat on, gazing 
after him with wide open wistful eyes. 

“ Marry Joe!” she repeated two or three times after he- 
was out of sight, as though she were thinking the matter- 
over from all its varied bearings. ‘‘No, never with -my 
free will do I marry Joe; but if Mr. Schippheim wishes it 
— well, perhaps it won’t much matter,” and then she 
bowed her head down on her knees and sobbed as thougiii 
her heart would break. 

A fresh vista seemed to have opened out for Patty that. 
September evening, a vista, however, through which she 
could not see very clearly; shades were rising gradually 
over it on all sides like the shadows of night, which,. 


LADY MU KIEL’S SECRET. 


123 


lengtliening as they did among the trees, reminded her, 
when she did at last look up, that it was time she was 
getting back to the laundry. 

It was five minutes of brisk walking from where Patty 
had been sitting to her new home: yet she took at least 
a quarter of an hour in getting there, so slowly did she 
wander along, so taken up was she by her own thoughts. 
When she arrived at the door, Elsie Bligh was standing 
by it. 

She had been a true friend to Patty, yet Patty did not 
care to see her now; she did not feel as if she wanted the 
sort of spell Max Schippheim’s presence had cast over her 
to be broken. 

“It is news as Pve bi-ought, Patty,” shouted the 
younger girl, when she saw the loiterer; hurry along, 
for I’ll have to be getting back.” 

“ I know your news,” answered Patty, a little shortly; 

the master is back.” 

“ Oh, that’s no news, since I seed him talking to you. 
Pve other news besides that.” 

“Well!” 

“Joe Marks was in Arundale to-day.” 

“ Humph 1” 

What cared Patty to hear about Joe Marks? 

“You don’t seem as pleased as ye might be. Joe’s in 
clover, too. He’s gotten a place at Belton.” 

“I hope he’ll keep it. Whatever has he come over to 
Arundale for to make fresh disputes?” 

“ I think he was a bit pining for the sight o’ you. He 
seemed disappointed loike when he found as you was 
gone.” 

“ Did you tell him where I was? 

“ Ho; you bidden me not, and he never asked me; be- 
like he didn’t think I knowed.” 

“ Never know anything, Elsie, and you 11 make a wise 

woman.” . . ’ 

At no time was Patty IJrske’s superiority so apparent as 
when she was in the society of girls like Elsie Bligh; she 
spoke better English than they did, came of a better race, 
and was not altogether displeased to give them many a 
word of advice. Elsie Bligh looked up to Patty as to a 
being belonging to quite a different sphere to herself, so 
thoroughly is everything a matter of degree in this world. 


124 


LADY MUEIEL’S SECRET. 


I waur a bit sorry for Joe, though he has gotten 
place,” she went on; ‘Mie didn’t seem to have no spirit 
when the fellows about jeered on at him, and said as he’d 
driven you out of Arundale.” 

Well, so he did. If he’d left matters quiet they’d 
have been quiet, and no harm done to nobody, and now 
that he’s got them into a fix I wonder he don’t stop at 
.Belton and leave the Arundale folk alone. There’ll be 
another row betAveen him and the Mounseer if they come 
across each other.” 

I’m sure and I hope not, though Joe is going to stop' 
at Mother Marks’ till the Sabbath night. She’s right 
pleased at having him there, I warrant.” 

Fools both of them,” broke in Patty. ^^ThatBru- 
meau is a vindictive spirit. He’ll be even with Joe afore 
he has done. What’s he been about of late? Has he got 
over his hiding?” 

“Oh, he’s gotten rid of his black eyes this some- 
time past and he’s quite master over Mr. Alston and 
Andrews. Now the real governor’s come back, we’ll see 
where the Frenchman’s place will be — nowhere if I was 
governor. I’d put you and Joe back where you was, and 
have no more of this furrineering nonsense.” 

“ I wouldn’t go back,” said Patty, Avith a little toss of 
her head. 

“ Lor’! The grapes is sour, they is.” 

“ Not a bit of it. I’m goin«g to stop on here with your 
mother; the work suits me. I like ironing, it’s clean and 
dainty.” 

“You behalf a lady, you be, Patty.” 

“Perhaps I shall be a Avhole one before I die.” 

“ My eye! Hoav queer it must be to feel as you do. I 
should like to be you for half-an-hour.” 

Patty gave a sad smile. 

“ Don’t wish it, Elsie, it won’t bring you no good. 
Best get back to Arundale, lass, before the night sets in, 
or Ave shall be having a fight about you next.” 

“I ain’t gotten your eyes, Patty, nor yet your Joe; but 
still I think I’ll be going; mother thinks I’m half-Avay. 
Good-night. I’ll let you knoAV Avhat’s going on.” 

“ Mayhap I’ll be in Arundale myself on Monday, only^ 
don’t tell anyone I’m coming.” 

“You?” 


LADY ilUKIEL’S SECliET. 


125 


Yes: yon don’t think Fm going to be buried in Dale- 
ford for life, because Joe Marks and Mounseer choose to 
fight. The master’s come back; he’ll square them,” and 
Patty threw up her head with a proud toss which was well 
known by factory workers. 

For a second or two Elsie stood staring, as though sur- 
prise had made her dumb, then she said: 

Well, you bean’t easy to understand; first you will 
and then you won’t. Howsomever, I’ll keep my tongue 
between my teeth, else p’r’aps Joe will be breakin 
some head as won’t mend quite so quick as the French- 
man’s.” 

All right, Elsie, you just keep the right side of Joe; 
there’s no saying what may come of it, I won’t stand in 
your light, my girl.” 

It was too dark by this time for Patty to see the crim- 
son color that rose to the very roots of Elsie s hair; she" 
had formed a sort of guess that Elsie had a liking for 
Joe, and felt inclined to do all in her power to foster it, 
fearing, however, at the same time, that there would be 
trouble and sorrow for her in the future, since Joe scarce- 
ly seemed inclined to recognize the fact that Elsie existed 

at all. -ni • > 

Before the usual pallid tint had returned to Elsies 
face, she was already half-a-mile down the lane, speeding 
on her way to Arundale. Patty had not conjectured 
wrongly in imagining that Elsie would rather have had 
Joe Marks for a sweetheart than any other fellow in Arun- 
dale; still she did not possess any of Patty’s strong char- 
acteristics. She would never make a desperate struggle 
for any object she wished to obtain, but would rather 
skulk away into some corner where, unseen, she would 
cry herpreUy eyes out, because nature and occasion were 
both combined against her. Elsie’s was one of those 
colorless temperaments that always want a stronger char- 
acter to lean on; hence chiefly her clinging to Patty with 
a sort of dog-like fidelity. 


126 ' LADY MUEIEL’S SECRET. 


CHAPTER XIX. 

MY INTENDED MYEE, 

All through Sunday, when Patty had nothing to do 
•hut wander about the little wood or sit gazing at the 
stream near which the laundry was situated, not a breath 
of Arundale news reached her, and such a longing came 
upon her to see the old place again that she quite looked 
forward to going down to the works with her papers on 
the morrow. The very expectation that the sight of her 
might create a tumult excited her, and she began to re- 
gard as a pleasant prospect what a few hours before she 
had almost feared. 

Sunday was a very long day at Daleford. 

Patty was not a strict church-goer, and had never vent- 
ured into Daleford Church because she did not wish to 
meet either Lady Muriel or Mr. Alston. For the same 
reason she had not gone up to the House to inquire after 
Miss Yorke, though Captain Christian had called at the 
laundry on the previous evening to know if she was still 
there, and they had subsequently heard of the accident 
which had lamed her. 

But if Patty herself had kept in the background, all the 
Bligh family had made an expedition to Dale House the 
object of their Sunday afternoon’s walk, thus leaving Patty 
quite alone and making time hang even heavier on hand 
than it usually did when the children, who were four in 
number and all younger than Elsie, were chattering and 
romping all over the place. ISTo wonder, then, that Patty 
was glad when the Sunday was over, finishing as it did, 
too, with anything but a good account of Bertha Yorke. 

When the fresh, bright Monday morning broke gladly 
over hill and dell, she got up, and donning her best attire, 
she started, her bundle of papers under her arm, for her 
interview with Max Schippheim in his little private sanc- 
tum in the factory. She had been quite right in suspect- 
ing that her appearance in Arundale after all that had 
taken place would not pass without something more than 
mere comment. 

Everyone was more or less on the alert when it became 


LADY YIUKIEL’S SECRET. 


bruited through the works that Patty Urske had re- 
appeared in Arundale, and even in the artists’ room there 
were whispered conversations going on which showed the 
intelligence had absolutely penetrated into the uppd^ 
circles. 

The daring impertinence, too, with which it was pre- 
sumed she intruded into the master’s private room to 
give, without doubt, her own version of what had hap- 
pened filled more than one honest breast with indigna- 
tion, and so utterly was Patty’s behavior misconstrued, 
so severely censured, that when, some half-an-hour later, 
she came out of Max Schippheim’s room, her pretty face 
basking in the pleasant smile a successful interview leaves 
on the countenance, the few old associates she met — for 
it was still working hours and the ^‘hands’’ were nearly 
all indoors — returned her gracious salutations with either 
a howl of disproval or with no visible response whatever. 

But Patty was in no mood to be annoyed; she was back 
in Arundale, the master was satisfied with her and had 
made her the happiest of girls; what need she care for 
the opinion of these people. 

She loitered along at the back of the manufactory, 
where there was a pretty view of Daleford and the Alston’s 
house in the distance, its smoke curling about green trees 
at the base. . As the ruddy September sun shone on the 
fair scene, of which perhaps, not the least fair particular 
was bright-eyed, sonsy-faced Patty herself, she attracted 
the attention of a man who was watching her as she 
dawdled along in the old familiar haunts. 

Ah, Patty had been rash when she retraced her foot- 
steps, for the man who was watching her was none other 
than Paul Brumeau, who, from not having feasted his 
eyes on the little beauty he so much admired for a long 
time, was all the more ready to devour her with passion- 
ate glances now. 

Paul Brumeau had not seen Patty since he received 
that drubbing from Joe Marks, and now his black eyes 
were nearly well; the remembrance of it exasperated him, 
however, since Joe had passed out of his reach, foi some- 
how, M. Brumeau had heard nothing of Joe’s visit to 
Arundale; so he thought he would have his revenge on 

^*He*would force her to love him; he would tell her she 


1^8 


LADY MURIEL’S SECRET. 


should be reinstated at Arundale, not as a mere gold 
burnisher but as a veritable artist if she would consent to 
accept his love. He would devote his life to teaching her 
his own art, and with such a sense of beauty of form as 
she possessed, it would be strange if she could not pro- 
duce some exquisite specimens of artistic excellence. 
Later he would take her back with him to his own France, 
where his English lily should blossom with peerless sweet- 
ness among the more gorgeous flowers of his own land. 
With such a tirade as this, uttered in the strangest English 
and the wildest glances issuing from his fiery eyes, Paul 
Brumeau made a descent on Patty as she stood dreaming 
of the future, which at that moment seemed well nigh as 
sun-lit to her mental vision as the landscape on which her 
gaze rested. 

She awoke with u start when M. Brumeau’s words first 
reached her, and a feeling of heat came over her as though 
a scorching furnace had suddenly been lighted at her 
side. She did not attempt to answer him for some 
■seconds, but stood looking at him with wide open, wonder- 
ing eyes, as though she did not know whether to be angry 
or amused by the intrusion. 

When she did speak her first sentence was a thorough 
bathos as compared with his rush of fierce, romantic 
passion. 

‘‘ What a blessed jargon,” she said; whatever’s it all 
about?” 

About youy my beautiful pet; you will wid me to my 
France go, where they will you worship as a Sainte Madon- 
na of beauty as you are.” 

^^Lor!” cried Patty, bursting out laughing; ‘Lare you 
taken mad all of a sudden, mounseer?” 

Mad ! yes, with the love, the passion of my beautiful, my 
adorable Patty,” answered Brumeau, as he tried to clasp 
her in his arms, 

She eluded him, however, by a sudden bound, as she 
said, still laughing — 

Your adorable Patty! Don’t appropriate what ain’t 
yours. 

“ ‘ Him who prigs what isn’t his’n, 

Must expect to go to prison.’ ” 

But Patty’s frisky, almost playful vein only served to 
make Paul Brumeau more keen. He whirled his little 


LADY MURIEL’S SECRET. 


129 


foody rapidly round and caught her in his arms before she 
had time to get out of his way a second time. Foiled, she 
grew really angry, and with her left hand, for he seized 
her right, she caught him such a blow on the side of the 
head that for a moment he was well nigh stunned. This 
daughter of the people would soon teach him that even in 
the absence of her champion, Joe, she was very capable 
of taking care of herself. 

‘‘ Just you learn to keep your hands to yourself, and 
don’t let ’em interfere with me,” said Fatty, speaking 
very roughly and brusquely in her indignation; talk as 
much confounded rubbish as that crazy tongue of yours 
can string together; it don’t hurt no one but yerself that 
it gets laughed at, but no fingering, if you please; I won’t 
stand it.” 

You are vixen — devil!” ejaculated Brumeau so furi- 
ous that it was with difficulty he could manage to pro- 
nounce any words at all. 

“ Yes,” she said, “ every one in Arundale knows that; 
pity you did not learn it before. It might have saved 
you a few bruises.” 

‘‘ I will quell your proud spirit, mechante que vous 
4tes. I will toss you to my feet. Mon Dieu! on ne dira 
jamais que moi, Paul Brumeau, have been vaincu par 
une femme.” 

‘‘That’s your lingo, is it,” cried Patty, irritatingly. 
'“'Well, you’d best talk it always, because it saves under- 
standing, and I don’t want to know nothing about you 
nor your talk.” 

“ But you will — you shall — you shall be my beautiful 
flower.” 

“ Stuck in your button-hole when you go holiday-mak- 
ing, I suppose. 'Tiook you here, Mounseer Brumeau, let’s 
have no more of your philandering or it will be worse for 
you. You’ve gotten me into more trouble than I care 
about as it is, and if you don’t just keep yourself to your- 
self and leave off a follering me up you’ll find out when 
it is too late that an English work girl can make two of a 
dirty little furrineer like you.” 

“You dare talk to me comme 9 a! You dare? Savez 
Yous que je suis Paul Brumeau, le grand dessincur, et 
que I will of yon complain to the master.” 

“ I ain’t got no master. I am a free and independent 


130 


LADY MURIEL'S SECRET. 


subject, and ready to duck you in that shining river down 
there the very next time you give me any more of this 
nonsense.” 

But Mr. Schippheim is tout puissant; he will turn 
you from Arundale if I tell him what a bad, cruel, lying 
girl you are.” 

‘^Will he? we shall see, and as here he is, state 3^our 
case at once.” 

It was true, a few paces behind Paul Brumeau stood 
Max, who had just come out of the works by a little side 
door. 

The designer turned round and faced him, dismay 
written on his countenance. What had the great Schipp- 
heim seen or heard of the scene, which was by no means 
to M. Brumeau's credit? He did not say how much he 
knew; he only expressed a wish in somewhat spurious 
German French, which of course Patty did not under- 
stand, that M. Brumeau would seek another appointment 
as designer since the Arundale works were no longer in 
need of his services. The little Frenchman seemed pet- 
rified and did not attempt to repl}^ but Patty began to 
tell the master what had happened. 

He would have no parley, however, on the subject. 

I have seen and heard it all. Run home to Daleford,, 
child, and do not come into Arundale again until I give 
you leave — then let Mr. Paul Brumeau and every one 
else take care how they interfere with my intended wife.”* 


CHAPTER XX. 

THE BAKS. 

There had been something in Bertha's face of late 
which had seemed a sort of reproach to Lady MurieL 
She did not know what the girl had absolutely discov- 
ered; still she could not divest herself of the impression 
that she knew something, and she was, therefoi’e, greatly 
relieved when Bertha, having accepted Angey Tramber- 
ley's invitation, had started for Richmond. 

Once alone, however, and minus the nursing and the 
worry of Bertha’s illness. Lady Muriel had ample time ta 
devote her thoughts to the absent Christian, and that she 


LADY MURIEL’S SECRET. ISJ 

did do SO, almost to the extinction of every other subiecfc 
there is little doubt. ^ ' 

Christian, whose letters used to be so frequent that if 
she had not wisely burnt them they would have filled 
boxes, now never wrot<3 at all. He had only sent one or 
two curt epistles when Bertha was ill and he first left 
Arundale, and, since then, utter silence. 

For a time Lady Muriel was irritated to the degree of 
making herself most disagreeable to every one with whom 
she came in contact; even little Eric cried to go to his 
nurse whenever he was left alone with his mother. Then 
the phase of her feeling seemed to change, and Lady 
Muriel became a victim to fits of the most abject despond- 
ency, which, for the time, seemed to check all her usual 
activity of mind. 

Illicit though it was, she had a fervent, deeply-rootkl 
affection for Christian, there is little doubt; scarcely had' 
she even recognized the depth of it herself till she found 
herself as it were, deserted by him and left in solitude 
to ponder over the happy days that might have been had 
she not elected to divide her homage at the shrines of 
Plutus and Cupid. 

She lost her sleep by night, her peace by day, and was 
beginning to look so thin and haggard that even Mr. 
Alston noticed it and grumbled that he had no sooner got 
rid of one invalid out of the house than it seemed he was 
to be burdened with another. 

Matters of late have by no means tended to put Her- 
bert Alston in a good temper. 

In the factory everything is, as he describes it, at sixes 
and sevens since it was given out that Max Schippheim 
intended to marry that little paupCr drab, and what lunacy 
had possessed the senior partner when he decided on such 
a step he could not for the life of him conceive. One 
very certain thing was, that if such an ill-assorted mar- 
riage ever did take place, they might as well close the 
Arundale Works forthwith, for there would be no man- 
aging the people: they were in a state of slumbering 
insubordinaLon now. 

And this does not suit my pocket, Muriel. We shall 
be paupers, d’ye hear, if this tomfoolery is allowed to 
go on.” 

This last sentenee was the invariable refrain of all 


132 


LADY MUIUEL’s SECRET. 


Herbert Alston’s many growls to his wife on the subject 
of Max Schippheini’s intentions toward Patty; the curious 
part of the affair being that she who had been so keen in 
stopping this marriage, now seemed perfectly indifferent 
as to whether it took place or not, while Mr. Alston was 
keenly alive to the fact that such an alliance would be 
most injurious to the interests of the business. 

That his wife would have seen this as clearly as he did, 
and have helped him in her powerful way to arrest its 
completion and their utter ruin, he had fondly hoped; 
but he was mistaken. Lady Muriel apparently perceived 
none of the personal inconveniences that would arise from 
Mr. Schippheim’s marriage with Patty, or, if she did 
perceive them, was utterly indifferent on the subject, and 
all Herbert Alston could say would not arouse her. 

The fact was, all her thoughts were engrossed in contem- 
plation of the strange behavior of the absent Christian, 
and she never attempted to divert them to any other sub- 
ject. 8he felt too utterly inert and really ill to exerciso 
either her mind or body over outside matters, and she 
spent hours lying on a sofa in the little boudoir, reading, 
or pretending to read some artistic work. 

No wonder Herbert Alston gazed in wonder at his wife, 
and, at times, had serious thoughts of sending to London 
for first-rate advice. All this while Paul Brumeau had 
not left Arundale. By the terms of his agreement, he 
was to have three months’ notice before departure, and 
not much more than as many weeks had passed since the 
morning Max Schippheim came suddenly upon him and 
Patty. Paul Brumeau did not wish to leave Arundale., 
The position he held there suited him; the pay suited 
him, and, moreover, he basked in the favor of the lady at 
Dale House. He had been carried away into the commis- 
sion of a foolish act by the impression Patty’s beauty had 
made on him, but he saw his mistake, and, like a clever 
man, from the moment he saw it, he set himself, if possi- 
ble, to repair it. 

The modus operandi to effect this wa^ he decided, as 
utter and entire an obliteration of himself as was possible, 
never allowing himself to be either seen or heard when he 
could help it. Of course he went into the painting- room 
at the works and gave his lessons and drew his masterly 
designs; but out of hours he became a cipher; he inter- 


> LADY MUKIEL’S SECEET. 133 

ferea with no one, never went near Dale House, and con- 
sequently liad not had one conversation with Lady Muriel 
Since Max Schippheim’s marriage had been announced. 
In this general defacing of himself, of course Paul Bru» 
meau came as little as possible in contact with tlie great 
senior partner; in fact, whenever [business absolutely ne- 
cessitated an interview with either partner, he was so ob- 
sequiously reserved and humble, that if they had taken 
his manner into consideration at all they must have de- 
cided that he was acting a part. 

But no one gave him and his object in life a thought 
and the days passed rapidly on in seeming placidity; still 
there existed that half latent spirit of dissatisfaction and 
disaffection of which every one was sensible, though no 
one alluded to it except Herbert Alston in his private con- 
versation with his wife. Patty stayed at Daleford, pa- 
tiently working with Mrs. Bligh and meeting the master 
occasionally by the mill: it seemed as if she too had a 
desire to efface herself from the recollection of the people 
of Arundale. But then, of course, some day she expected 
to burst on them in fuller radiance. 

“The bans are to be published next Sunday! next 
Sunday, d’ye hear, Muriel?” Mr. Alston announced to his 
wife one day when he came home from the works to 
luncheon. 

“Whose bans?” she asked, languidly. 

“ Whose bans? how can you put such a question? why 
that old fool Schippheim, of course, with the little hussy 
at Daleford. I am sure I have talked to you about it.” " 
Lady Muriel got up from the sofa on which she was ; 
lounging. i 

“Indeed! so soon! I thought it was all a philandering f 
and a joke.” 

“ You never do believe what I tell you. You always 
think what I say is a joke. How you can stare me in the 
face in that cool fashion I can’t conceive, especially when 
our ruin embraces your dear friend Christian. I had a 
letter from him this very morning in which he says: ‘ I am 
sorry to hear that my uncle Max is still bent on this fool- 
ish infatuation which is such a blow to all my prospects. 

I might as well tie a mill- stone about my neck and jump 
into the sea.”’ 

“ Christian wrote to you? Christian said this?” 


134 


LADY MURIEL’S SECRET. 


Ah — I thought a reference to Christian’s ruin would 
wake you up, while about mine you do not seem to care a 
pin.” 

Perhaps I do not altogether see how you are so much 
affected by Mr. Schippheim’s marriage. Give me Chris- 
tian’s letter.” 

j He threw it rather at than to her, and watched her 
^ keenly while she read it with avidity. 

Lady Muriel had not seen Christian’s writing for so long 
she drank it in as a thirsty man drinks a cup of water after 
a three days’ drought. Except by the deepening color on 
her pale cheeks she showed, however, no signs of emotion; 
she was composed and dignified as usual. 

- You are right; something must be done,” she said, 
‘^but what, it will require time and reflection to decide.” 

At last, then, you mean to take the matter up. If 
you had done so weeks ago, brought some of your plausi- 
bility to bear on Schippheim, you would have stopped it 
without all this d d delay.” 

Don’t talk nonsense, Herbert, and don’t swear before 
mo. I hate it. My talking to old Max would have been 
useless; no man who is in love ever listens to warnings. 
Something more startling, more dramatic, must be brought 
to bear on the case than mere talk.” 

What do you suggest should be done?” 

Nothing, except that you should leave me alone to 
work out the affair my own way.-” 

Which means, I suppose, that I am a driveling idiot, 
and not capable of offering a suggestion?” 

Nothing of the kind; most probably your assistance 
will be very valuable, only I should suggest that, as Max 
Schippheim’s partner, you should keep in the background 
and do what you are told blindly. It may save future 
disputes.” 

Lady Muriel had as yet formed no plancle guerre ; this 
distancing of Mr. Alston from her project was solely 
with the view of giving herself wider and freer range of 
action. 

Some one calling him away on business at this period of 
their conversation, she lay back on her sofa once more, 
and fell to thinking. 

Lady Muriel’s cogitations did not give rise to any 
extravagant piece of energy. She simply rang the bell 


LADY Muriel’s SECRET, 


35 


and ordered tlie pony-carriage in which she liahiinally 
drove herself, hut which, owing to the state of her feel- 
ings and her health, she had not used for nearly a fort- 
night. 

It was a soft, balmy afternoon, and the air seemed to- 
revive her. She felc more like her old self as she drove 
Kobin at a brisk trot along the lanes toward Daleford,. 
than she had done for weeks. 

It was the prettiest drive in the neighborhood, but it 
was not,altogether the beauty of the scene that influenced 
Lady Muriel; she had an object in view. She was going 
to see Patty, to try her powers upon her, to seek to mes- 
merize this girl into obeying her wishes. She did not in 
the least expect to succeed, but if she did not, well, then, 
someUiing else of a far more desperate nature that she was 
arranging in her brain must be tried. 

When she got about half way to Daleford the pony 
stopped very suddenly, though usually quiet and well be- 
haved, and began to kick violently. 

There was a man lounging under a tree close by, smok- 
ing a short pipe; coming quickly round a corner and seeing 
this man lying there, had evidently frightened Master 
Robin, and it was some seconds before even the sound of 
Lady Muriel’s voice could quiet his vagaries. 

By the time he had decided to stand quietly, the man 
was at his head. Lady Muriel looked at him and recog- 
nized him at once. 

‘‘Joe Marks!” she exclaimed, “I thought you had left 
these parts for good.” 

“I’ve got work at Belton, my lady.” 

“Then what are you doing lying under a tree at Dale- 
ford?” 

“’Cos, my lady, I likes sometimes to have a look at the 
old place. 1 has friends here.” 

“ Friends!” and Lady Muriel laughed. “ You seem to 
be enjoying solitude, I should have said.” 

The pleasantness of her ladyship’s manner inspired him 
with confidence. 

“ It’s ’cos I’ve lost a friend as I was there all alone,” lio 
said, hanging down his head. 

^‘Indeed! Who is dead in Arundale?” 

“Not dead, my lady. That is, only to me; but mar- 
riage is death to some folks, if it is life to others.” 


136 


LADY MURIP]L’S SECRET. 


you mean Patty Urske?” 

Ay, my lady. Her as is going to marry tlie master. 
I didn’t believe one word of it till I asked her myself, 
and ” 

Well, my man, what did she say?” 

She flouted me i’ the very face, and told me to go 
back to work and mind my business; when she was mis- 
tress she’d have no ne’er-do-weel idlers about the i^lace.” 

When she is mistress!” and Lady Muriel’s lip curled, 
and there was a strong sneer in her voice as she. repeated 
the phrase. Patty will not be mistress at Arundale if 
Mr. Schippheim’s friends can prevent it. He must be 
mad to contemplate such a step, and, treating it as the 
action of a madman, we shall do our best to prevent it.” 

It’s high time then as something was done. They is 
to be asked in the church to-morrow.” 

^‘You might run away with Patty,” suggested Lady 
Muriel, in a half-jocular tone. 

‘‘ Lor’, bless your ladyship, she wouldn’t run an inch, 
and if I took her by force, I’d only have the master down 
on me to take her back again; besides, I don’t want no 
woman as don’t want me. I may make myself unhappy- 
like without her, but I’d be iinhappier if I had her tied 
moaning and grumbling to my coat-tail.” 

“ Then you arc resolved to give her up, be wretched for 
a little while, then get over it and forget her. You are a 
.sorry lover, Joe Marks.” 

“ Well, my lady, I am a man, and, I hope, an honest 
one, but I ain’t gotten grand folks’ views o’ lookin’ at 
things. What would you have me to do?” 

Stick to Mie girl you love, of course, and try to rescue 
her from the misery she will bring on herself by passing 
into a sphere bf which she knows nothing.” 

^‘Sphere!” muttered Joe, repeating the word once or 
twice as though its meaning puzzled him. No, Patty 
don’t know nothing about spheres,” he then gave as his 
decided opinion, amusing Lady Muriel in spite of herself; 
for, all things taken into consideration, she was in no mood 
to be amused. 

She answered him in the same tone, however. 

Such being the case, why don’t you prevent her from 
being thrust into .them? They will only be her destruc-. 
tion.” 


LADY MURIEL'S SECRET. 


137 


Can't help it, my lady. Patty is perverse, and if I 
said to her, ‘ Patty, her ladyship says as spheres is dan- 
gerous, and you'll get among 'em if you has to do with this 
yere marriage,' she'd only say, ^ Let me alone, Joe, I 
can take care of myself, and I likes a turn now and agen 
at a new experience.’ No, please, my lady, Pd sooner 
leave Patty alone.” 

But if Patty were free you would marry her?” 

^‘Yes, my lady, if she wished it; not that she'll ever 
wish it as long as the master's above ground.” 

‘‘ Do you think it would be of any use for me to go and 
see Patty, and have a talk with her?” 

Joe shook his head. 

You could as likely hoist up that there great elm tree 
and carry it on your shoulder to the house, as move Patty 
when her mind is set. ^ Words most sets it all the firmer.'^ 

Then you think it would be wiser to leave Patty 
alone?” 

^‘If you can't make no way with the master, you won't 
with Patty. She won’t be coaxed and she won't be bribed 
and she won’t be druv. She has her own way allers.” 

“A nice account you give of the girl you love,” said 
Lady Muriel, laughing; still, somehow, this marriage 
must be stopped, Joe.” 

‘^Pm willin’,” he answered, ‘^but I don't see my ^vay 
to it.” 

•‘Neither do I altogether; however, Pll take counsel. 
Only tell me, Joe, may I count on you to marry Patty if 
this stupid business is put a stop to?” 

“Ay, if she's willing.” 

“ She will be willing enough if she's once free of Mr. 
Schippheim; it is only this nonsense that is keeping her 
from appreciating an honest young fellow like yourself. 
Here, Joe, is a sovereign to drink success to our endeav- 
ors. Keep a good heart, my man, and look forward to 
the day when you and Patty will have a snug little cottage 
in Arundale which I will furnish for you at my own cost.” 

“Thank you, my lady. Thank you hearty, Pll look 
forrard and hope.” 

Meantime Lady Muriel turned the carriage round. 
Something in her conversation with Joe had evidently de- 
cided her not to go on to Daleford. 


138 


LADY MURIEL’S SECRET. 

‘^Good morning, Joe — come up to the House in a few 
days if your master a? Bel ton can spare you.” 

He watched her as she drove away. 

wonder whatever she’s. going to be after,” he mut- 
tered, ‘‘some deyil’s games, Ihl warrant. Slie worrited 
till she got me dr^'e out of Arundalo, co^I meddled with 
her furrineer, and now she’s as civil as though I was her 
best friend.” ' 

Lady Muriel, however, waS soon out of sight. About 
half-a-mile further on she arrived at four cross roads. In- 
stead of taking tlie turning back to Dale House, she drove 
down into Arundale. Was she going to try her blandish- 
ments on the senior partner himself? 

Whatever was the business that took her into Arundale 
that day, when she returned home some two hours later 
there was a fixed stern look on her face as of a woman 
who was resolved on determined action. 


CHAPTER XXI. 

BACK IN TIME. 

The sun was already fading out of sight behind the 
we*stern hills, and flocculent masses of vapor floating 
about in mid-air heralded the approach of night before 
Lady Muriel drove home from Arundale, Whom she had 
seen there, what she had done, she told no one; but there 
was the rigid expression of a fixed purpose on her features, 
making them look whiter if possible than usual, and very 
stony, as she drove on quickly in the semi-darkness. 

For two hours an urchin to whom she had promised a 
shilling had held her pony in the street in front of the 
works, but no one remarked the occurrence. Lady Muriel 
so frequently went there to inspect the painting, &c., 
that though she stayed on this occasion much longer than 
usual, the fact attracted no attention. But Lady Muriel 
was not in the painting-room, nor did she have any inter- 
view with the senior partner, who had been seen, as was 
his wont, in every part of the building where he was least 
expected at various times during the afternoon: such a 
radiant, happy look on his face as no one among those 


LADY MUKIEL’S SECRET. 139 

who had known him for years ever remembered to have 
noticed there before. ^ 

And days passed on. No immediate result seemed to 
be imminent from Lady MnrieFs drive that afternoon; 
yet that something was about= to happen might be rather 
felt than perceived. There was a sort of heavy luridness 
in the mental atmosphere; people in high quarters were 
observed standing about -corners and speaking in 
whispers. The sort of dead calm was apparent which in- 
variably presages a storm, the only individual unconscious 
of its approach being the senior partner himself, who 
shone like a sun among all the gloom that surrounded 
him. The bans had been published in church for the 
second time, and he looked so happy, had been heard to 
hum sotto voce as he went about his daily avocations in the 
works, and some of the hands even asserted that they had 
heard him whistling in the quadrangle. 

Meanwhile Patty never appeared in Arundale, but wae 
supposed to be"livlng in peaceful, blissful repose at Mrs. 
BliglPs preparing her trousseau for the coming happy 
event. Preparing her trousseau she assuredly was, but as 
for the happiness she was experiencing at the same time 
that, to all appearance, was infinitesimally small. 

Not that she did not love the master. Patty loved him 
with her whole soul, and would have sacrificed her life 
for his, but the misery this love entailed on her was se 
great that at times she almost wished it had never existed 
at all. It seemed as though the whole of Arundale had 
risen against her as one Goliath, and that she was power- 
less in her humbleness and her weakness to make any 
stand. 

True, she lived at Daleford, ands hould have been 
out of the reach of Arundale scandal, but its trumpet 
tongue made itself heard even in her retreat, and tor- 
mented her daily with its many insinuations against her 
virtue, the truth of the report that her Granny had left a 
nest egg, &c., &c. 

All these calumnious libels were torture to sensitive, 
upright Patty, the more so since she compelled herself 
to endure them in silence. She would not for worlds 
have told Max Schippheirn what she was enduring. It 
would but have increased her own pain to have brought 
the blight of sorrow to his frank, glad eyes. And by some 


140 


LADY MURIEL’S SECRET. 


happy chance he seemed to hear nothing; everyone was 
too afraid of the master to dare to hint at scandal to 
him; even Lady Muriel was too wary a diplomatist not to 
know that such a measure would but increase his deter- 
mination to be true to Patty. But, aggravating though 
these false reports were which were so carefully repeated 
to Patty, the enforced hearing of them was by no means 
the severest trial the poor girl had to endure. 

Joe Marks, who had either given up his work in Belton, 
or it had given him up, was always loitering about the 
neighborhood — a pipe in his mouth, his hat on one side 
of his head, looking the very incarnation of abject despair. 
Patty was compelled to meet him occasionally, and when 
she did so the picture made her heart bleed. Poor Joe! 
-he was a worthy fellow, only she could not love him. 
Would she ever have loved him, she wondered, if she had 
not met the master — her superb, god-like Max, for Max 
Schippheim was a god to Patty in the devotion and the 
reverence with which he inspired her. 

Once or twice she had stopped to talk to Joe, expostu- 
lated kindly with him on the folly of his conduct, tried to 
make him believe how far happier he would be if he would 
seek to bestow on her more brotherly regard. But it was 
useless. Patty’s gentle treatment only rendered the poor 
fellow more desperately, passionately in earnest, and more- 
over, she generally found that these interviews with Joe 
but served to heap coals of fire on her own head; for an 
iiccount of them was sure to go the round of Arundale 
.and at last return to her with many slanderous additions. 

So she gave up speaking to Joe, since speaking was so 
•useless and so dangerous, and when she met him, as now 
and again she was compelled to do under the greenwood 
tree, she only bestowed on him a passing nod or a cold 
good day, since she concluded Joe must talk of their 
meetings and conversations, else how could people know, 
and such disloyalty, from honest Patty’s view of life, was 
a flagrant sin. 

Wise though little Patty was, more sapient than most 
of her gmieration and her class, she had not discovered 
who the real delinquent was who was undermining her 
steps, poisoning the very atmosphere in which she dwelt. 

Ah! It was a direful day for Patty when Paul Brumeau 
oame over from the great sister manufactory at Sevres. 


LADY MURIEI/S SECRET. 


141 


The despairing love from which poor, suffering, impa- 
tient Joe was bowed clown, to the extinction of all his 
*work-a-day capabilities, was as nothing in comparison 
with the fierce, raging storm that Patty’s sweet face and 
fair, rounded form had awakened in Paul Brumean, ren- 
dered, too, as it was, ten times more furious by opposition 
which he felt himself to be well nigh powerless to over- 
come. Powerless, that is, by the old proverbial practices 
•of love and war. 

That the little Frenchman could condescend to mean- 
ness and baseness, those who knew him well in his own 
country would not have gainsaid. As it was, at Arundale 
no one but Lady Muriel and Max Schippheim were suffi- 
ciently intimately acquainted with his language to gnage 
his character. To the latter he contrived as much as pos- 
sible to remain a closed book — to the former— well, to the 
former — perhaps he had revealed more than for her own 
credit’s sake she should have permitted. Nor when Max 
Schippheim did attempt to open the prettily bound book 
in which Paul Brumeau kept his sentiments, was he any 
the nearer an arrival at the real truth, since the page 
which was presented to him had invariably plausibility and 
flattery inscribed at its heading. 

Ever since the evening that Max had come to Patty’s 
rescue in the passage behind the works, and had given 
Brumeau his dismissal, the chief designer had been most 
obsequiously civil. 

It was evident he had some object in view in thus toady- 
ing the senior partner. Of course that magnate thought 
it was in order that his shortcomings might be overlooked, 
and he be permitted to retain his situation; and he smiles 
as he thinks of the littleness to which some men will 
condescend for an object, and supposes he must forgive 
him. Max Schippheim is so thoroughly happy he is 
ready to forgive all the world. 

If he had questioned Patty very closely, she would, in 
all probability, have told him a very different tale; for 
she was sensibly alive to the fact that Brumeau had by no 
means given up his desperate admiration for herself, 
though even she could not realize what a snake in the 
grass he was. , . 

She never saw Paul Brumeau, which she did astonishing- 
ly often, considering how far out of Arundale she was liv- 


142 


LADY MURIEL’S SECRET. 


ing, that she did not, if possible, get out of his way; but 
on more than one occasion this had been so absolutely 
impossible that Patty had been compelled to hear what he 
had to say. ^ / 

Always the same tale, only sung in another strain; that 
is, a story of his devotion, mingled with his professions of 
admiration, congratulations that she is going to make such 
a splendid marriage, and regrets that he, being only a poor 
worm, had never any chance of winning her; but she, 
being in power now, must forgive him his past, and plead 
for him with the master that he may remain in their serv- 
ice. 

Quick and sharp by nature, Patty, however, does not 
altogether fail to read between the lines of this man’s 
cringing jargon; and each time after she has passed through 
an enforced interview with him, she writes him enemy in 
her mind. 

Not that she fears him much; how should she when the 
arch-potentate of Arundale, the great Max himself is on 
lier side. As his affianced bride, must not all the lesser 
powers hide their abashed heads. 

Still Patty’s life was not altogether a pleasant one, and 
she scarcely knew whether she wished for or dreaded the 
day that was to transform her from humble Patty Urske 
into mistress at the great factory, and the hour was ap- 
proaching very rapidly now. The bans had been pub- 
lished three times; the dresses and bonnets, though very 
simple and neat, yet superbly rich in Patty’s modest eyes, 
were laid out to view in Mrs. Bligh’s best bedroom. 

White creamy silk made quite plainly, with a straw 
bonnet trimmed with lace of the same hue, was to be the 
bride’s attire, while Elsie Bligh, in a blue cashmere, a 
present from Mr. Schippheim, was to be the only bride- 
maid. 

Simplicity and no unnecessary display was the senior 
partner’s wish in connection with the marriage, which 
was to take place on Thursday morning, and no one con- 
tradicted a single wish. It seemed as though all Arundale 
was paralyzed with astonishment at there being any mar- 
riage at all; thus they had not a word to say either for or 
against it. 

The people never for a moment took it into considera- 
tion that it was entirely their evil tongues which had'im- 


LADY Muriel’s secret. 


143 


pelled Mr. Schippheini into this marriage; at all events 
with so much hurry. 

From the House not a word was said in protest, but, 
then, except Lady Muriel, there was no one to protest. 
Mr. Alston had been in Birmingham for the last ten days 
on business in connection with the money defalcation and 
subsequent disappearance of one of the clerks, and Bertha 
Yorke was, as we know, at Richmond with the Tramber- 
leys. Hot that she would have interfered if she had 
been in her old home. 

The reasons that might once have made her raise an 
opposing voice against Max Schippheim’s marriage had 
•ceased to exist. 

On Lady Muriel’s shoulders, then, did all the onus of 
opposition rest, and she carried the burden very lightly 
to judge by her actions; for she went on her usual way 
and did not testify to any interest in the affair one way or 
another. 

Those who knew Lady Muriel well, might have been 
astonished at her giving up her very determined objec- 
tions to this marriage so easily; but, then, no one about 
Arundale knew how deeply rooted her objection was ex- 
cepUier husband, and he was absent. Folks said he had 
gone away because he could not brook seeing tho senior 
partner make a fool of himself; but they seldom discussed 
Lady Muriel’s share in the general annoyance. 

Meantime, Wednesday morning arrived, the day before 
the wedding was fixed to take place. The quaint old 
clock at the mill which had represented time to the 
country people for years past, pointed to thirty minutes 
past mid-day, when Elsie Bligh, breathless and all aglow 
from the speed with which she had run up from Arun- 
dale, stood on the threshold of her mother’s cottage. 

Patty was in the front room ironing some bits of lace 
finery. 

“Gracious, Elsie, why do you run like that? you’ll 
make yourself quite ill; you are as red as fire,” she ex- 
claimed when she saw her friend. 

“ However you can keep cool,” was the retort, “ you 
haven’t heard the news, that’s .pretty clear.” 

** What news?‘ I’ve heard nothing.” 

Well, the master’s gone away. Went away last night; 


144 


LADY MURIEL’S SECRET, 


only took a hand bag with him, no one knows wliere- 
he has gone or when he is comin^back.” 

Patty burst out laughing. ^ ,/ 

‘‘You little silly, what’s there in that to surprise you^ 
He’s gone on business, of course. He’ll be back in plenty 
of time.” 

“Then you’ve heard from him?” 

“ I’ve heard nothing, but I know. You don’t think as 
I’d go for to doubt the master?” 

“ Folks in Arundale thinks as it’s very queer. They’re 
all standing in groups talking about it.” 

“ Are they? Well, if they hadn’t that to talk of they’d 
find something else. Tell them to mind their own busi- 
ness. I’m very sure of mine.” 

“Then you think Mr. Schippheim will really be back 
in time for the wedding to-morrow, and isn’t trying to 
cry off, as folk hints?” 

“Elsie, how dare you? I’d like to choke you. for such 
a supposition. The master is as sure to put in an appear- 
ance here at the right time to-morrow as the sun is to 
rise.” 

Elsie hung her head as though abashed by Patty’s 
faith, and felt sorry she had brought a suspicion to Dale- 
ford. But she need not have regretted her warning, for 
it did not seem to influence Patty, who went about the 
finishing up of her wedding preparations very joyously, 
a bright smile on her face, and a glad love carol in her 
voice. 

The day passed without bringing any tidings of the 
senior partner, and the morrow broke in true festive beauty. \ 
The small wedding party assembled about half past ten 
o’clock at Daleford, village church, where the bridegroom 
had decided his nuptials should be celebrated; but they 
waited there for him in vain. Neither that day, nor for 
many days to come, was anything heard of Max Schipp- 
heim. 


CHAPTER XXII. 

AT BARRACK GRANGE. 

To be deafened and plagued by a pack of wild healthj 
children is one of the finest alteratives in the world. 

To Bertha, coming as she did from a childless house. 


LADY MUIUEL’s SECRET. 


145 


it proved immensely beneficial. It was perhaps the last 
remedy she would have thought of, but, as is often the- 
case, it was the very one which suited her best. 

Oh, what a relief it was, the bare escape from the sickly 
atmosphere of Arundale, where she had grown so weary 
of the sad, dull alternative, — alas, how many women will 
sympathize with her! — of rooting out her deep first love for 
Christian, or else struggling to keep it alive after she well 
knew that its bloom, at any rate, was gone for ever. 

This all-pervading theme monopolized and held her 
captive. Chase it away however resolutely Bertha might, 
it would return at the first vacant moment to tyrannize 
with renewed cruelty. Every scene where she had built 
up Jier love and her sweet hope was now impregnated with 
her late unwelcome discovery, and so dumbly eloquent of 
it that day or night she could dream of nothing else; and 
to flight alone could she look for even a partial cure. 

Yes, in this little individual world of ours it is often 
very good to be plagued. 

Besides, if the Tramberloys were a little too much for 
the tenderly nurtured Bertha, she had her retreat in that 
wing of Barrack Grange, as their house was called, where 
she and Angela often locked themselves and reveled in 
quiet and mutual con hdences. It has been said ad nauseam 
that in all human aflection there is ever that inequality of 
degree which makes of one ^the lover, of the other the 
being who consents to be loved. In the present case, 
there is. little doubt that Bertha’s feeling for Angey was 
stronger than Angey ’s for her; yet, for all that, Angey 
loved her friend with a very real and deep devotion indeed. 

It was a grievous trouble to Bertha at this time that she 
could not bare her soul in utter confldence as Angey did 
to her. Lady Muriel was, of course, the reason of this. 
To betray her even to the most trustworthy of confidantes, 
was a thousand times impossible to Bertha’s loyal nature, 
but she did tell Angey plainly that she had loved, perhaps 
loved still, Captain Christian Meyer; but that she could 
not in honor, for the sake of others, relate to her certain 
events that had recently befallen. Besides these gentle 
communings of these two young ^irls, their days were 
pleasantly broken by little trips to town for shopping, or 
to see a friend, and once or twice an expedition to the 
play was duly organized; this being an effort, pecuniary 


146 


LADY MUKIEL's SECRET. 


and otherwise, for the Tramberleys, provoking more dis- 
cussion and squabbling almost than the thing was worth, 
before it was carried into effect. 

Ij; was on one of these occasions that, during the 
entr’acte, Angey was startled hy seeing her friend sud- 
denly change color, and lean for support against the back 
of her chair. At first’ she thought that the lieat, the gas, 
and, above all, the thrice-breathed breath, which make of 
our places of amusement (?) such temples of penance to 
many of us, had overcome Bertha, when the latter pressed 
her hand and whispered — 

It is nothing. Don’t notice. I have just seep him, 
and I think he saw me, and is coming here.” 

“Him! who? Oh, Captain Christian.” 

“ Yes. Mind, if he comes, talk to him as much as 
you can. If you love me, Angey, talk to him. You will 
get me out of a dilemma, for — well, I can tell him noth- 
ing that he wants to know.” 

“ But he will think me so tiresome, so devoid of tact, 
so ” 

“ A sacrifice I claim. Men forgive anything to such a 
pretty girl as you are. I’ll do as much for you some day, 
and Hush, he is here. 

As she spoke, the door of their box opened, and the ex- 
pected one appeared. 

“ Bertha,” he began, remaining outside, “ may I come 
in? If you are, as I suppose, with your friend Mrs. 
Tramberley, of whom you so often speak to me, may 1 beg 
for an introduction?” 

The three ladies were quite alone at the moment, their 
only cavalier, one of the schoolboys before mentioned who 
were never at school, being absent on a ginger beer-drink- 
ing expedition, and the two girls rose, while Bertha civ- 
illy though not warmly bade him enter, and forthwith 
presented him first to her chaperon and then to her friend. 
This little ceremony being gone through, Christian took 
possession of the fourth chair, and, as good breeding 
ordained, addressed himself to doing the agreeable to the 
mamma of his beloved’s friend. And now a string of 
common-places ensued which there would be nothing but 
boredom in retailing. In three or four minutes, how- 
ever, and having already made a favorable impression on 
the old lady, he jumped up and contrived a change rather 


LADY iiu Kiel’s secret. 


147 


cleverly by a feigned anxiety to view the ceiling and other 
parts of the house from a different point to that of the 
stalls, exclaiming — 

A cliarming house, one must admit. This is one of 
the numerous new theaters, and I have not been here 
before.” 

“ When, Captain Meyer, is the craze for building new i 
theaters to end?” asked Angey, mindful of her orders. 

Well,” said Christian, who rather plumed himself on 
his knowledge and perspicacity in matters theatrical, 
not until the reign of opera bouffe declines. Then, I 
suspect, we shall see several London houses tenantless,”' 
and, as he spoke, he transferred his chair, as if out of 
sheer politeness to the questioner, to a vacant space be- 
tween the two fair girls. 

And what do you think will succeed to opera bouffe?” 
asked Bertha. 

‘‘ Well, any guess in that direction is, I hold, most 
hazardous, but that there will be a change of some sort 
before long, I believe, though who can dare to say in 
what direction fashion’s caprice will betake itself?” Then 
changing the conversation — 

Have you heard lately from Lady Muriel, Bertha?” 

A shade passed over Bertha’s face as she replied — 

‘‘ Not for a fortnight. I thought you would be more 
likely to give me news of her,” she said, looking straight 
at him; he colored slightly as he answered — 

^‘Oh, you know I left Arundale before you did, and 
Lady Muriel is a poor correspondent, except on business. 
When do 3^011 think of returning?” 

He put the question in a tender, earnest voice which 
spoke volumes; but she doubted his sincerity and said 
with great indifference — 

I’ve no idea. The fact is, I am so utterly happy with 
these dear friends of mine at Eichmond, I don’t think 
just now of the future at all.” 

‘^Is she coquetting with me?” Tie thought. This is 
a new phase.” 

Well,” he said, ‘Mf we are not to meet there for a 
time, Eichmond is not far off. Mrs. Tramberle}^ I hope 
you will allow me to canter down and visit you.” 

‘‘By all means,” said that motherly individual. “We 


148 


LADY MURIET/S SECRET. 


shall be enchanted. Pray come whenever you like; you 
will always find luncheon on Sundays at two.” 

The Tramberley luncheon proper was not a meal to ask 
a stranger to take unawares. On the Sabbath the family 
dined at two. Hence the difference. Good Mrs. Tram- 
berley knew nothing of the relations between Christian 
and Bertha, and at once saw in him a possible mate for 
her eldest. 

Angey now inquired if he knew Richmond well. Invol- 
untardy smiling at the simplicity of asking a Londoner 
such a question, he told her he thought he did, pretty 
well, but for all that would like to know it better. 

“ Strangely enough,” he added, ‘^1 was there yester- 
day.” 

‘‘Indeed!” 

“Yes,” he said, half amusing; “I say strangely, 
because I was riding with a man — an old friend of mine — 
and I wanted to go to Wimbledon. He, on the contrary, 
asked so earnestly that we should turn our horses^ heads 
toward Richmond I made §ure he had an important call 
to make there.” 

“And had he?” asked Bertha. 

“Nothing of the kind; so I couldn’t make it out. 
Curious fellow is Elton.” 

Angey turned as white as ashes, and her friend, to save 
her confusion, hurriedly asked — 

“Do you mean Mr. Felix Elton?” 

“ The same. We were at Harrow together. Not a bad 
fellow at all. But you don’t know him, do you?” 

“He is a friend of Mrs. Tramberley.” 

“Oh, indeed. He kept pottering about Richmond yes- 
day, and looking right and left. 1 couldn’t think what 
he was at, but as he volunteered no information and looked 
very grave and preoccupied, I thought — ha, ha! — that I 
would do the discreet and not question him.” 

“ Perhaps,” said worthy Mrs. Tramberley, “ he was 
looking for Barrack Grange: that is the name of the little 
place we have taken.” 

She did not in the least think so, but there was an awk- 
ward silence, and no more sensible remark occurred to her 
at the moment. She pitied poor Angey’s blushes, and 
moreover, she thought it sounded well, as Elton was such 
a fashionable young man. 


LADY Muriel’s secret. 


149 


The curtain here rose upon the third act of Fallen 
Fortunes,” the play they were witnessing, and Christian 
profited by the diversion to say in Bertha’s ear — 

“ Perhaps it will be I who shall ask Elton to take the 
Richmond road next time. Shall I — may 1?” 

I daresay Mrs. Tramberley will be very glad,” she said, 
drawing hei*self up as though to discourage any further 
whisperings. One more little speech, however, he man- 
aged to convey to her sotto voce, 

‘‘ I think you are very unkind to me this evening, and 
— I shall think of it all night.” 

The school-boy now made an irruption into the box with 
an I say, ma ” which was heard over half the house. 

^‘Hush, Bobby, do,” said his mother, turning scarlet. 

Christian rose, and as Bertha gave him her hand, she 
said — 

Unkind! I don’t know what you mean. Good night!” 

And with a bow to the other ladies, and a vigorous 
shake-hands with the boy, with whom he waived the cere- 
mony of an introduction, Christian left the box. 

Who’s that?” said Bob before the door was closed. 

‘^Hold your tongue T’ said mamma with a tap which 
was half a slap, will you never learn manners?” 

But he shook hands with me,” pursued Bob in quite 
an injured tone. 

Nobody attended to him, however, so he was fain to do 
as the others and attend to the play. 

But few words were said by the two girls till they found 
themselves tete-a-tete in their rooms at Barrack Grange. 

Then confidence began in earnest till the bare walls of 
the almost paintless barn in which they lived echoed with 
the names of Elton and Christian. 

That passing interview with Christian had re-awakened 
in Bertha’s heart all the slumbering love for him which 
she had hoped was long since extinct. His soft whispers, 
his gentle manners, what could she do but think of them 
till the image of Lady Muriel stood gaunt and threatening 
before her mental vision; but of this image she dare not 
tell Angey, and to her friend’s oft repeated questions as 
to why she dared not love Captain Meyer as much as she 
liked, the sole answer she could give her was that neither 
his relations nor hers would let them marry without 


150 


LADY MUKIEL’S SECKET. 


money. And she would then draw the conversation from 
Christian to Felix Elton, who, from the little revelation 
that had been made, evidently had by no means given up 
caring for Angey, although he stood firm to his point that 
unless her family gave her to him utterly and entirely, he 
would not have her at all. 

In another room that night was this subject discussed 
very freely — in the nuptial chamber of Papa and Mamma 
Tramberley, who came to the conclusion that if Elton 
was really as much in love as might be inferred from the 
anecdote related by Captain Meyer, it would be well to 
hold out a little longer; he would give in in the end, and 
an entree into London society be secured for the rest of 
their numerous ofisj^ring, male and female. 

This point being decided to their satisfaction a long dis- 
cussion followed as to what would be the best means of 
luring Christian Meyer to Barrack Grange for the eldest, 
an officer in Her Majesty’s 300th Foot, quartered at Aider- 
shot, being almost as important a person in Tramberley 
e3"es as the great Felix Elton himself. Altogether things 
seemed to be looking up, they thought, and before they 
sought the aid of the Poppy god that night they further 
deceided that they would expend a little cash which they 
had not got, in making the house look more habitable and 
furnished, and that Mr. Tramberley should take the two 
girls into London for this purpose on the morrow. Of 
course they were compelled to select an expensive, and 
consequently, long-suffering shop in which to make their 
purchases, since ready money was an unheard of luxury. 

Wlien, after so many hours spent in plotting and chat, 
the elder members of the Tramberley family at last fell 
asleep, their slumbers were destined to be of short dura- 
tion — the troop of unruly ones were up with the dawn, 
which broke, however, fortunately for the sleepers, nearer 
eight than seven, since with the awakening of the band 
they raced from one end of Barrack Grange to the other 
in their scanty night garments, shouting the, to them, 
welcome tidings of Snow! Snow! What jolly snow balls 
we will make. Angey and Miss Yorke shall catch it, for 
isn’t it snowing just! it is nearly up to the sashes of the 
dining-room window already.” 

The children were right; the snow kept them thorough- 
ly employed for days to come, but it put a stop to many 


LADY Muriel's secret. 


151 


other projects and created such a substantial barrier be- 
tween Kichmond and London that they might have been 
diundreds of miles apart. 


CHAPTEK XXTII. 

KEW year’s eve. 

SiXTEEiiT degrees of frost, and the snow piled up in 
smoke-blackened heaps all along the center of the prin- 
cipal London thoroughfares. In the by-streets no at- 
tempt had been made to remove it, and locomotion was 
well-nigh impossible. Hoar winter in its severest garb 
had taken the great Babylon by surprise, and notwith- 
standing all the scientific machinery it had at command, 
it would not recover its equilibrium. 

Not for years had such a stoppage of all amenities of 
life been known; cabs did not ply for hire, even omnibuses 
had ceased running. Milk was not to be had at two 
shillings a quart, and people began to talk about the or- 
dinary necessaries of existence running short; as for 
water, the house that possessed a well-filled cistern was 
besieged by the numerous possessors of frozen taps. . 

Such was the state of London on Xew Year’s Eve, so 
recently as to make us wonder whether we were indeed 
surrounded by the modern appliances of this latter half of 
the nineteenth century, or whether we were still dwelling 
in the unhelpful darkness of the Middle Ages. 

New Year’s Eve. Yes, the bell ringers had managed to 
get along the slippery, snow-drifted streets, and every 
church that had anything like a chime was awaking tlie 
echoes with clamorous tintinnabulation. 

' In a small street leading out of Tottenham Court Road, 
there was a large out-of-repair, tumble-down-looking house 
let out in rooms to working people. The mistress of the 
house was respectable in her way: that is, she had veneered 
herself with respectability, and was always polishing the 
surface to let you see that it was bright, but the material 
that was underneath this outer coating was terrible rub- 
bish. She never stole, or flagrantly defrauded, or did 
anything that could be taken hold of as blameful; still, 
with all her parade, if you were anything of a character 


152 


LADY MURIEL'S SECRET. 


reader you felt somehow instinctively that Mrs. Dobbs' 
was not, in the ample sense of the word, an lionest woman. 
She would wink at shortcomings in otliers, always saying 
she must exercise the spirit of Christian charity; never, 
however, finding the indulgence in this virtue the least 
necessary unless there were some pecuniary end to gain. 

Her cunning ways, however, were successful in blinding 
a good many of the people whom she came across in life, 
amongst others, her relations, the Blighs, of Daleford. 
Mrs. Dobbs was own sister to Mrs. Bligh, though for the 
last ten years all communication between them had been 
reduced to occasional letters; still, Mrs. Bligh reverenced 
Sarah Dobbs; she had always reverenced her when they 
were children, Sarah being much the older; and it would 
have taken two archbishops and a martyr to make Mrs. 
Bligh believe that the contamination of a big city had, bit 
by bit, so depraved the elder sister that by means of a 
little religious smearing she could swallow any enormity. 
No one liad ever been led into the belief that Dobbs was 
a good man; he was a hard drinker and a hard swearer; 
but he had been dead for years, and since his death Sarah 
had been most successful witli her lodgers, and was con- 
sidered by the Blighs to be thoroughly responsible and 
well-to-do. She keeps the parlor of the tumble-down 
house which she has bought, and can therefore repair or 
not, as she pleases, for herself. She is sitting there now, 
running her dirty forefinger, with its black-bordered nail, 
up rows of figures, the addition of which seems to perplex 
her not a little. 

Drat them bells, it’s all along o’ them as my head can’t 
do it.” 

Leave it till to-morrow, it’s very late to-night to be 
bothering over accounts,” said a voice issuing from a 
black heap, which at a first glance you would certainly 
not have taken for a human being, crouching on the 
hearthrug in front of an apology for a fire. 

‘‘ It’s not my practice to put to-day’s work off till to- 
morrow. Suppose you were to come and see what you 
can make of it.” 

The heap unrolled at this bidding, that is the head was 
lifted from its reposeful position on the knees, and the 
arms, as their possessor indulged in a stretch, were thrown, 
in the form of a cross as the girl — for the croucher was a 


LADY Muriel’s secret. 


153 


I 

I 

girl — got up, pirouetted roui»d, and confronted the light I 
vouchsafed by one miserable composite candle, and Mrs. | 
Dobbs. 

It was Patty Urske who ha^ been lying on the hearth- 
rug, dreaming and listening to the bells till she was roused j 
by Mrs. Dobbs’ voice grumbling over her figures. 

Patty Urske, still Patty Urske, and not Max Schipp- 
heim’s wife, for there was no wedding ring on her finger. j 
Lady Muriel Alston had so far succeeded in getting her 
away, whether by arrangement or chance no one inquired, . 1 
since last of all did anyone suspect that she had anything I 
to do with Max Schippheim’s mysterious disappearance. 

As for Patty, she did not know whom or what to suspect; | 
certainly not Lady Muriel — Paul Brumeau, if anyone, 
but she was more inclined to think some great evil had 
befallen Mr. Schippheim, and that he Avas dead, than 
that any surreptitious course had been pursued by others 
in connection with him, since she believed the senior j 
partner to be far too shrewd and long sighted a man to j 
be easily lured into a pitfall. | 

She had remained on at Daleford for several weeks after j 

his strange departure, making sucli inquiries for him as j 

from her A'ery humble sphere she was able, trusting from j 
compulsion rather than confidence to the search that was J 
set afoot, Patty thought in a very mild way, by the Dale 1 
House people. j 

Certain it is they did not make any very vigorous efforts | 
to find Max, but treated the matter rather as a joke. I 

Of course, he never meant to marry that low girl,” j 

Lady Muriel would say, only he got his head a little too 
far into the noose, and had probably gone to America in 
order to disentangle himself.” ' 

Most people thought with Lady Muriel, except Patty 
and Patty’s immediate friends, the Blighs, and even they i 
at last began to waver, hearing what was said by every 
one around them. Folks blamed Max Schippheim loudly i 
for his want of loyalty, and dubbed him blackguard and ’ 
scoundrel pretty freely for leaving a woman in the lurch, | 
but they somehow managed to blame Patty more for her 
minx-like encouragement of him, thus by their remarks j 
rendering the poor girl’s existence such a misery to her 
that she was well nigh weary of her life, and had it not | 
been for the standi bravd-y which abounded in her 


154 


LADY MDKIEL’S SECRET. 


character and which upheld her in all difficulties, she 
would have laid her burden down in the rapid waters of 
the mill stream, and thus sought oblivion there of all her 
woes. ^ 

To remain at Daleford, however, under existing cir- 
cumstances, was next to impossible. She could not bear 
it much longer, and even tlie Blighs were growing tired of 
the sort of Barnum show their modest laundry had be- 
come since Patty had been left to bewail her loss by the 
senior partner. Every body for miles round came by way 
of sympathy to look at her and talk matters over. So 
Mrs. Bligh suggested her sister Mrs. Dobbs’ house as a 
place where Patty might have a tem2)orary home till she 
got a situation in London. 

One cold December morning, then, she left Daleford 
without telling any one where she was going, and making 
Mrs. Bligh, who was a loyal, true woman, less given to 
chattering than most of her class — making her promise 
that she would reveal the secret of her whereabouts to no 
one save Max Schii^pheim himself, if ever he came back 
to look for her. 

Patty wished to begin an entirely new life, into which 
she did" not care that either Joe Marks or Paul Brumeau 
should follow her. 

Two days after Mr. Schijopheim’s disaj^pearance, Joe 
Marks had made her a formal offer of his hand and an 
honest home, but Patty had told him so resolutely that, 
unless to Mr. Schippheim, she would never be a wife at 
all, that he had gone back to Belton, and not since re- 
turned, but Paul Brameau was by no means so easily 
snubbed. Every day he walked over to Daleford to con- 
dole with Patty, tried to make her believe he was using 
every effort to find Max, but hojoed that, all these en- 
deavors failing, she would allow herself to be consoled. 
M. Brumeau was too wary a diplomat to be very passion- 
ate and energetic in his courtship of Patty; but she saw 
enough of his maneuvers to loathe him each day more and 
more, and were it only to get away from Brumeau she 
was truly thankful to leave Daleford. During the ^veeks 
that had passed since, still no wife, she took off her bridal 
dress and laid it on her little bed in Mrs. Bligh’s attic, 
there had been so much talk, so much scandal, so many 
conjectures, that poor Patty had been kept on the qiii 


LADY MUIUEL’S SECRET. 


155 


vive; in such a state of feverish excitement, that she could 
not thoroughly realize the exceeding strangeness of the 
mystery which, for a time at all events, had marred her 
life. But when she found herself in London, surrounded 
. by fresh acquaintances, some of whom had never even 
heard of Max Schippheim, then only did the utter loneli- 
ness of her position seem to crush her, and she would sit 
for hours crouching over the fire as she was doing that 
iNew Year’s Eve, thinking over all the miseries with 
which her path seemed to be beset. 

All the roses had faded out of her face, which looked 
white and bore a haunted expression, as though she lived 
in a constant fear of whom she might see or what she 
might hear at any moment. Her beauty, however, had 
become rather intensified than overshadowed by what she 
had endured, and as she stood in front of Sarah Dobbs, 
and that usually engrossed woman looked up at her from 
her figures, the rather hypercritical lodging-house owner 
thought but seldom, in all the range of her acquaintance, 
had she seen a more beautiful girl than Patty IJrske. 

‘‘Pity she’s wasting the best of her days lamentin’ a 
shadow,” she muttered, thinking out loud without even 
being aware that she was doing so. 

The girl heard her, however, and the crimson blood 
rushed into her face for a moment. 

“ What do you mean?” she asked, tartly, “ the master 
ain’t no shadow, but the honestest piece of fiesh and blood 
as ever lived on this earth.” 

“Dare say, my gal, when he was livin’ on this ye re 
earth.” 

' “ And do yon, too, think he is dead?” asked Patty, all 

i her color gone, and a deadly paleness succeeding it. 

“I don’t know nothink about it; allj do say is if you 
think as he is livin’, and is as honest and straightforrard 
as you believe, why the dickens you don’t look for him, I 
can’t think. There’s lots o’ foul play about; country 
girl as you be, of course you can’t be expected to know, 
but Lor’ bless you, up inLunnon they’d think no more o’ 
spiritin’ away a woman, nor a man neither, no more than 
nothink, if they got the chance.” 

“But who ever could?” queried Patty in a wondering 
tone. 

“ Them as is interested, my dear. Money is the main 


156 


LADY Muriel’s secret. 


thing as sways people. Now, who would have had this 
yere gentleman’s money if you wasn’t to the fore?” 

‘‘I don’t know for certain, but his nephew, I suppose.” 

Then p’raps his nephew is at the bottom of it. AViio 
is his nephew, and where is he?” 

Oh, he is an officer; we call him Captain Christian — 
he is main good-looking, and Miss Yorke is in love with 
him. Wish I could see Miss Yorke, but she went away 
from home ill before any of this happened.” 

She is in love with this captain, and is he in love with 
her?” 

Patty hung her head. 

‘‘Don’t think so myself — think he is in love with — no, 
but that’s scandal — and I must not say it.” 

“Nothing is scandal when perhaps this Mr. Schipp- 
heim’s life is at stake. Go on.” 

Thus encouraged, Patty told what little she knew about 
the fondness that was supposed to exist between Lady 
Muriel and Captain Christian. 

Sarah Dobbs gave a prolonged “Whew!” 

She had lived among evil people for so many years that 
she never suspected good in any one — most certainly she 
did not do so here, and at once jumped to the conclusion 
that she had found the key-note of the mystery. Much 
interested in the idea of unraveling it, she pushed the ac- 
counts on which she had been so deeply engaged away 
from her, and resting her two arms on the table, sho 
looked fixedly at Patty. 

“All right,” she said, “go on, tell me some more. 
How many more black-hearted ones have you yet at Arun- 
dale? You are a set of innocents, Elspeth Bligh and the 
rest, not to have ferreted this matter out afore.” 

“ You don’t think as Lady Muriel has anything to do- 
with it! She’s a mighty deal too grand.” 

“Grand — my stars! grand! Grand folk is the worst,’* 
and Mrs. Dobbs, who was almost a Communist at hearty 
fell to laughing boisterously at the idea of grandeur pre- 
venting vice and crime. 

“Well, I feel sure as it ain’t Lady Muriel,” persisted 
Patty; “ it might be the French Mounseer.” 

“A French Mounseer! I never heard of him afore. 
You do keep your tidbits well concealed inside the cake 
dough. Go on, tell us everything from beginning to end» 


LADY Muriel’s secret. 


lor 

It’s a holiday-making as we’ll do to-night, for the accounts 
won’t come right with them bells. Stop a minnit; I’ll 
just get a little whisky to keep the new year in a good 
humor, and then begin.” 

Patty, who had never tasted spirits in her life, declined 
the -proffered whisky, but she consented to make a confi- 
dante of Mrs, Dobbs, partly because her heart was full, 
partly because she had a certain amount of belief in the 
knowing widow’s capability of helping her. 

The bells had long since ceased to ring, and still they 
both sat there over the fire, which Sarah Dobbs had stirred 
up into a good blaze. So interested was she in the girl’s 
story, that she almost forgot to sip her whisky and water. 

It was just three o’clock, when, at last, she got up, 
saving — 

They’re a bad lot — the whole bilin’ of them. We’ll 
go and see Peter Swift to-morrow, if we can get along 
they dratted streets, and if he don’t put ye on the track, 
well, no man can.” 

“ Who’s Peter Swift, Mrs. Dobbs?” 

Wlio’s Peter Swift! Well, that there is a bit of a 
puzzler too! He ain’t a detective and he ain’t a lawyer, 
he ain’t an honest man, and he ain’t altogether a rogue, 
but he’s just a little bit of all the lot, and he’s as clever 
as Old Nick himself.” 

‘‘ Where does he live?” 

A long way from here — there’s the difficulty this 
weather, but my corns says we shall have a change soon. 
Let’s see what the night looks like. Cheer up, my gal, 
it’s New Year’s morn, and who knows but the buddin’ 
year may bring you luck.” 

So saying, she unfastened the paintless shutter, and 
looked out into the snow-clad, dawnless morning. 

^^Drippiii’? I’m blest if I ain’t drippin’: we’ll have a 
thaw and a rare slosh afore middle day, and we’ll see if 
we can’t wade through them streets to where Old Peter 
lives.” 


158 


LADY Muriel’s secret. 


CHAPTER XXIV. 

PETER SWIFT. 

Anvill Court is one of the many courts in which the 
Strand abounds. It is perhaps narrower and consequently 
closer than most of the others, but it is not for that reason 
any the less thickly populated; quite the contrary. Every 
room is let off for business or other purposes, every avail- 
able niche utilized in some way or another. 

About four doors up this court, among the numerous 
names painted on the door post, is that of Peter Swift, 
who is the occupant of a back room on the second floor. 
Professedly, it is his office; but that it also serves him for 
bedroom and kitchen and hall, is testified by various signs 
and implements which lie scattered abroad. 

Peter Swift is a little wizen old man, to all appearance 
well on in the sixties. He is nearly bent double as he 
sits glancing with keen eyes over some papers he holds in 
his trembling hands. His hair, which is quite white, 
hangs in scant curls over the greasy collar of his coat; but 
his head, from being quite bald at the top, is protected 
by a velvet cap, originally embellished with rich and 
artistic embroidery, but now grown faded and dull 
from age. It is the only thing bearing resemblance to 
wealth in the old man’s room, and had been years ago 
the gift of a grateful client with rather more money to 
command than the rest of the people who consulted Peter 
Swift. 

It must not, however, be supposed, judging from the 
bareness and general dirtiness of Peter Swift’s abode, that 
he was a very poor man. He was one of those grubbers 
who never waste the opportunity of making a farthing, 
and who expend the merest trifle most grudgingly, when 
even large sums of money are made. 

Some people said his hoards were considerable, some 
said he was a miserly beggar; no one knew the exact 
truth about him except that lie was ‘^at home to all 
callers,” as he himself expressed it, every day from eleven 
till four, and that he made a good many shillings in 
the course of the morning by giving advice, undertak- 


LADY Muriel’s secret. 


159 


ing bad debts, arranging to hunt up mysterious intelli- 
gence, making wills, writing an occasional love letter^ 
et cetera, et cetera; for Peter Swift’s connection, though 
entirely confined to the lower orders, was by no means a 
small one. “ • 

Mrs. Dobbs had employed him for years; he had been 
most useful to her whenever she had had any trouble with 
her lodgers, or required any other business transaction 
which came within the jurisdiction of the pettifogger. 

As Sarah Dobbs had predicted, by twelve o’clock on 
I^ew Year’s Day the streets were in a state of slush, and 
having Avalked most of the way, for omnibusses had not 
yet resumed their usual daily routine, she and Patty ar- 
rived at Anvill Court about one o’clock with bedraggled 
petticoats and wet, mud-stained boots. 

Mercy on us! what has-brought you two ladies out in 
such weather?” exclaimed Mr. Swift, when they, having 
knocked at the door, were bidden to come in. “Some 
case of very great importance, I make no doubt.” 

“Ay! a lost husband, and a grieving bride, that’s the 
sort of business to interest you, am’t it, Peter?” and Mrs. 
Dobbs set up one of her vulgar guffaws. 

Peter pushed the spectacles he usually wore up on his 
forehead and looked fixedly at Patty; naturally he inferred 
that she was the bride. 

“That’s it; you’re right, she is the young person. Fire 
away, Patty, my gal, and tell your tale in as few words as 
may be — Peter hates long yarns.” 

“Be seated, ladies,” says Mr. Peter Swift, who is in- 
varibly polite to the fair sex, but who, nevertheless, rather 
dreads the long story with which he fears, notwithstand- 
ing Mrs. Dobbs’ warning against garrulity, he is about to 
be inflicted. 

Patty, however, has not uttered half-a-dozen sentences 
of her statement before Peter becomes intensely interested. 
It is exactly the sort of case with which he delights to 
deal, more perhaps for amusement than profit, though 
l^rofit, too, he makes little doubt about securing if he is 
only lucky enough to unravel the mystery concerning Mr. 
Schippheim’s fate. He by no means takes the view that 
he has gone to America to be rid of Patty, but is very 
much inclined to believe that his relations and connec- 
tions have been contriving some diabolical scheme in 


160 LADY MUKIEL’S SECRET. 

order to rid themselves of what they consider an objection- 
able alliance, 

Peter Swift has for so long been accustomed to side 
with the poor that he has a good many of Mrs. Dobbs’ 
views, and finds it difficult to ascribe any fair dealing in- 
tentions to the rich. 

He cross-examined Patty with the most minute care, 
taking down every particular she was able to give, 

^‘Troublesome business, ain’t it, and expensive,” said 
Mrs. Dobbs. “ Ought to be advertisements and rewards 
and all kinds of things; but where’s the money? I ain’t 
got none to waste, and Pm sure this ’ere gal ” 

“ I’ve got a hundred pounds,” interrupted Patty, “and 
I’m sure I’d spend every farthing of it with pleasure to 
find Mr. Schippheim.” 

“A hundred pounds? that’s worth knowing,” muttered 
honest Peter, beneath his breath; but he only said out 
loud, “ Brave little heart! wliat a pity there are not more 
girls like you in the world. Let me think; let me ponder 
over the mode in which I can best help you.” 

Peter Swift was always very specious both in word and 
manner, invariably speaking the Queen’s English with a 
distinctness and correctness of utterance which gave the 
idea that in his youth he had moved in another sphere, 
probably had been reduced to this one by his own pecca- 
dilloes, if not more Ireinous offenses. 

“ Advertisements are of no use,” he decided, after a 
few seconds passed in thought, “ since, in all probability, 
those detaining Mr. Schippheim are the people most in- 
terested in concealing him. We will not therefore waste 
money in this way, A search warrant is the first thing to 
obtain, as then, under all suspicious circumstances, we 
can make the necessary investigations, and always have 
the law on our side. I should like — nay, I may say I 
should enjoy a personal interview with this Erench de- 
signer. I think I shall go down to Arundale myself.” 

“ You, Mr. Swift, you!” cried Mrs. Dobbs in some sur- 
prise. “ I thought as you never left thisyere court.” 

“ Not frequently, my dear madam, not frequently, but 
there are cases when locomotion is necessary; this is a del- 
icate undertaking which I should not like to trust to any 
vone else.” 

“Pm thinking a bit ot the money,” observed Mrs. 


LADY MUKIEL’S SECRET. 


16 ] 


Dobbs, who, the truth being told, had no intention of 
having Patty’s hundred pounds frittered away without 
having a good share of it herself. 

If this young lady will hand over to me ten pounds, I 
will guarantee that, without receiving any further remit- 
tance, I will investigate matters and give her my honest 
opinion as to whether Mr. Shippheirn has or has not been 
■detained involuntarily. You, I think, Mrs. Dobbs, know 
me wellienough to be aware of that if any man in England 
can ferret this matter out, that man is myself.” 

“I can indeed. You’re main clever, Peter Swift, and 
I’d intrust my nearest interest to you; it’s only the money 
I’m thinking of.” 

^‘Exactly. We must all live, Mrs. Dobbs. I am a poor 
man, and must be paid for my work.” 

‘‘ I’m sure I’ll give this gentleman ten pounds without 
smother word about the matter,” cried Patty, fumbling 
in the front part of her dress from whence she produced 
some notes and laid two fives on the table. Another 
second and Peter Swift had locked them up in the drawer 
in front of him. A receipt was an instrument which, in 
the sort of trade he carried on, it would have been most 
inconvenient to give, for Peter Swift was not always en- 
gaged in such straightforward business as that brought 
to him by Mrs. Dobbs on this occasion. Even that know- 
ing wonian herself had employed him on matters with 
which she would not have cared for all the world to know 
that she had aught to do. 

He had taken ample notes of names and addresses, 
personal appearance, &c., &c., and now, having secured 
his ten pounds, he got up on his somewhat shaky legs — it 
was evident the mental far exceeded the physical power 
in Peter Swift — and bowed courteously to his two visitors. 
He wished them to understand that the audience was at 
an end, and that his valuable time could be encroached 
on no more, 

Mrs. Dobbs knew his ways and took the hint, telling 
Patty to go on down stairs, she would follow her in a 
second. 

The girl obeyed, and Mrs. Dobbs employed -the second 
in reminding Peter Swift that she had brought him a 
client, and should expect that fact to be remembered. 


162 





LADY MUKIEL’S SEOREt» 

‘‘A little percentage, I prCsitme,'’^ lie answered, with 
. smile. 

She nodded her head toward the drawer were the fivers 
had been just pnt; she liad no idea that they sliould re- 
main there without her having any pickings. Peter Swift 
took a sovereign from his waistcoat pocket and gave it to 
her. 

‘‘Ten per cent., Mrs. Dobbs, that is about the extent 
of your exjiectations?” 

She pocketed it with a sort of grunt. 

“ Good morning, Mr. Swift.'’ 

Another minute or two, and she was down in the Court 
beside Patty. 

“ Come along, my beauty; you’ve done a good day’s 
work with tliem bright eyes of yours; you’ve fetched old 
Peter, who ain’t one of tlie easiest to tiickle, and stirred 
him up to doing the best he can for ye, and may be ye’li 
be happy with yer old sweetheart yet.” 

“ I am sure Pm very much obliged to you, Mrs> 
Dobbs.” 

“ Don’t mention it, my dear; you’re welcome, I’m sure,, 
to any poor help as I can afford. There never yet w'as 
any folk as could say Sarah Dobbs was a selfish woman.”' 

“No. indeed. You are most genbroiis.” 

“Well, come on, we won’t talk of that; we’ll get a bit 
further along this mucky Strand and have a bit of some- 
thing to eat at the cookshop at the corner.” 

Even Ml'S. Dobbs felt she had not quite deserved so 
many remarks upon her generosity. 

They followed Mrs. Dobbs’ programme, and by the 
^ time they had finished a good warm dinner of pickled 
pork and peas pudding, it was four o’clock,, and already 
almost dark. 

Not since Max^s disappearance had Patty eaten so 
heartily or looked so well; she had been put into spirits 
by the fact that she had made a move toward finding him, 
a move which she did not think would be wholly futile, 
that is, if he were still among the living, a fact about 
which Patty had such a secret misgiving that a dread of 
the worst never ceased to oppress her, even at the moments 
when she was most sanguine about discovering some trace 
of her missing betrothed. 


LADY MURIEL'S SECRET, 


163 


Owing to the weather, tliere was still great difficnlty in 
obtaining an omnibus, but few being on the road, and 
wliat few there were being quite full. They waited about 
for some little time, and then Mrs, Dobbs, after much 
grumbling, decided to walk, no very enviable journey, 
considering the state of the streets, the darkness which 
prevented the numerous snow heaps from being percept- 
ible, and the general murkiness and chilliness of the at- 
mosphere. 

A New Year’s Day like this I never remember in all 
my blessed life, and me as has asked the Hopkinses and 
the Barneses to supper. Tliey'll be there afore we’re 
ready if we don’t look sharp; for we sha’n’t have a dry 
stitch to our backs by the time we get home. ^ Lor’, mind 
that there puddle, Patty, it’s most like a river. I was 
anigh in it,” 

all right,” said Patty, laughing. 

To her young nimble limbs and quick sight, the streets 
presented but few obstacles. The slush had not even 
touched her dainty short skirts, nor were her boots more 
than moderately muddied, wliile the expedition altogether 
would have been under other circumstances rather an 
amusing one to the fresh country girl. When they got 
into Hollwrn there was a good deal of traffic; many people 
with business that, owing to the snow storm, had been 
deferred for davs, were taking advantage of this the first 
break in the weather. The shops looked bright, and gay, 
and attractive. Patty, with her love for grandeur and 
pretty things, could not help stopping every now and then 
to look into them, in spite of Mrs. Dobbs’ frequent iirgings 
to come on; so much so, that the girl was frequently in 
danger of losing her friend altogether. 

At last tiiey came to an important-looking furniture 
shop, in the large windows of which was displayed a gor- 
geous set of drawing-room chairs and sofas covered with 
silk brocade of the most artistic Eastern designs; little 
buhl tables and chiffoniers had been placed amongst them 
by the hand of a master, wliich had also draped curtains 
in lace and of a sympathetic peacock bine satin in the 
form of a tent. It was a most telling picture, and not 
only were Patty’s eyes riveted on it, but there was quite a 
crowd of Londoners gazing open-mouthed. 

Mrs. Dobbs would without any doubt have joined the 


164 


LADY Muriel's secret. 


group had uot the recollection of the Hoiikinses and the 
Barneses been heavy on her mind. 

Patty, however, had no such incentive to hasten her 
steps toward home, and she stood stock-still gazing in 
speechless wonder. For some seconds — nay, even mo- 
ments— she stood thus, till at last she turned round to 
make some remark to Mrs. Dobbs, and found the old 
woman had gone on without her. To find her way Patty 
was unable. She had no knowledge of the localities in 
London, but she was not easily frightened. 

Pll wait here a bit and see if she comes back, and if 
she don’t, I suppose there’s a policeman,^’ she decided 
philosophically, still feasting her eyes on the fairy-like 
scene in the shop window. On a sudden she uttered a 
little cry. 

Coming out of the shop were two young ladies and a 
middle-aged gentleman. There was a carriage, a sort of 
hired brougham or fly, at the door, and into it they all 
three were about to get, when Patty’s exclamation made 
one of them look round. 

Patty!” she now also, in wonder, exclaimed. Patty, 
whatever are you doing here in London? Where are you 
staying?” 

The speaker was Bertha Yorke, who had come up from 
Eichmond, with Mr. Tramberley and Angey, to do the 
shopping which had been delayed so long. 

Patty gave the address of Mrs. Dobbs’ house, and 
Bertha, liolding out her hand as she got into the carriage, 
asked rather shvly — 

‘‘Still Patty Urske?” 

“Oh, Miss Yorke, then you haven’t heard. Oh, how 
I should like to tell you all about it.” 

“ Come and see me very soon. Barrack Grange, Eich- 
mond; don’t forget the address.” 

Another moment and Bertha was gone. 

She had come like a vision, like a vision she had de- 
parted, and she knew nothing of Max Schippheim’s dis- 
appearance; it was more than strange. 

Patty had forgotten all about the artistic tent in Messrs. 
Wraggles’ window now, but remained on the pavement, 
gazing after the carriage long after it was out of sight, 
pondering on the lost vision, when she was awakened from 


165 


LADY Muriel’s secret. 

her reverie by Mrs. Dobbs’ voice speaking in anything but 
the most honeyed accents. 

"'It’s trapesing as I’ve had enough of this blessed 
murky day, and to think as I’m obliged to come draggling 
back to look after yon, as if you was a baby in long clothes, 
and my friends waiting too! You ought to ashamed of 
yourself.” 

Patty merely said very quietly — 

" I am very sorry, but I missed you, and thought I had 
better wait here for you to come back.” 

Then she followed her without further comment. She 
did not tell Mrs. Dobbs that she had seen Bertha Yoi ke. 


CHAPTi^K XXV. 

" I WILL NEVER FORGET YOU.” 

By the middle of January the frost had quite departed, 
and every particle of snow had vanished, giving place to 
a week of spring weather which was unnatural in its 
warmth and brightness. Bertha and Angey passed their 
entire time out of doors and enjoyed the unusual sunshine 
as much as two love-sick damsels parted from their lovers 
could be expected to do, especially as Bertha had twice 
seen Patty since the day of their momentary meeting in 
Oxford Street, and her thoughts were considerably en- 
grossed by the to her unaccountable story of Max Schipp- 
man’s disappearance. 

Twist it how she would, no light seemed to break upon 
it, that is, no rose-tinted liglit, for she feared, though she 
scarcely dared own it, that those she loved best on earth 
were involved in the matter. 

Could Christian Meyer have had anything to do with 
this disappearance, in order that by preventing his uncle’s 
marriage he might enjoy his fortune? Could Lady 
Muriel be assisting him to gain this end because she loved 
him? 

If this were so — and Bertha dreaded it, though she did 
not suggest it even to Angey — but if it were so, how she 
hated both Christian and Lady Muriel for their baseness. 
Bertha’s was one of those noble natures that cannot go 
on loving the being it has learnt to despise. 


166 


LADY MURIEL’S SECRET. 


The two girls would wander for hours iii the large 
grounds surrounding Bai'rack Grange, talking on no 
subject save their lovers — tliat is, Angey would chatter 
ceaselessly about Felix Elton and his perfections, but 
Bertha was as silent as she dared be without arousing sus- 
picion on the subject of Christian Meyer. 

It was about three o’clock one afternoon when the 
friends, driven from their favorite walk about the grounds 
by the more than usual ternnest the younger members of 
the family had evoked, determined to go out at a little 
side gate that led into a back lane which would eventually 
bring them to the river-side. 

They had scarcely got into the lane before they saw two 
men coming toward tiiern at a brisk pace. 

Felix Elton and Christian Meyer! They had not time 
to pronounce their names before they were close to them. 
No chance of escape. Nothing for it but to stand blush- 
ing and smiling, and make the best of being caught, as it 
were, in a trap. Christian, from his very long acquaint- 
ance with Bertha, and his general free-and- easiness of 
manner, was the spokesman. 

‘‘Well met, young ladies,” he cried; “wo were coming 
to call at Ba’-rack Grange, but a miscreant of a boy has 
told us the wrong turn, and we are evidently arriving at 
the back door instead of the front.” 

“ Mrs. Tramberley is out; gone to London on busi- 
ness,” answered Bertha, with some dignity, as though, 
that fact having been stated, the visitors must therefore 
depart at once. 

She did not seem to have considered that they would 
probably regard it as good news. 

Angey, who was so very loquacious in Mr. Elton’s 
praise when he was absent, now stood looking at him 
in shy silence, the very tijis of her shell-like ears tinged 
with crimson. 

“ Are you going for a w^alk?” was the next question, 
followed, of course, by — 

“ May we accompany you?” 

f'hey had it not in their soft little hearts to refuse, but 
Bertha resolved to tell Christian wdiat she thought of his 
conduct about Uncle ^lax. 

“And then,” she conjectured, “ when he knows what I 


LADY MtJRiEL’§ SECRET. 


m 


think of him, what an utter contempt I have for him, he 
will never wait to come near me again as long as I live.’’ 

Of course, ere many minutes had elapsed the particm're 
merged \wto tete-a-teteSy and while the other two were really 
forgetting eyerytliing on earth but the pleasure of each 
other’s society, Bertha had a full opportunity of making 
her grave charge against Christian. 

Poor Christian! He was so happy, thinking he had 
done a good work that day, for not only had he himself 
come down to Richmond to see his sweet Bertha, but he 
had persuaded Felix Elton that his behavior was^ of the 
most selfish and absurd nature, and that he was in duty 
bound CO accompany him to Barrack Grange, own all the 
love he had for Angey and ask her to be his wife without 
any ridiculous conditions, while Christian himself — well, 
it was very certain he intendeil to make hay wliile the sun 
of Lady Muriel’s presence was set. 

What then was his surprise at being indignantly asked 
by Bertha how he could have been so base and worthless 
as to lend himself to Max Schippheim’s abduction? 

“Uncle Max abducted! Really, Bertha, you must be 
joking — the idea is too funny.” 

He soon, however, discovered that she was terribly in 
earnest, only stopped for a moment in the torrent of re- 
proach she showered upon him by the assurance on his 
word of honor that this was the very first he had heard 
of Max Schippheim’s disappearance. He believed him to 
be still at Arundale, in all probability married to Patty by 
this time. 

Bertha was as astounded at h^'s ignorance of what had 
happened as he was that anything so startling had hap- 
pened at all. Both their calculations had been thoroughly 
upset, and as for lovemaking, for the present at all events, 
it had not a chance. 

Over and over all Patty had told her Bertha was con- 
demned to go fifty times, rewarded, however, at the last 
by the exclamation from Christian — 

1 will have an explanation with my lady; she is 
at the bottom of this.” 

“Just what I think,” observed Bertha, "‘only, unless it 
is for you, I can’t quite make out why she does it.” 

He looked at her for a moment to see how much that 
“for you” meant, and then he said: 


168 


LADY MURIEL^S SECRET. 


‘^For me, yes — I suppose it is partly for me — only if I 
did not exist I expect my lady would put a spoke in the 
wheel of this marriage. Fancy little Patty Urske set up 
^is a rival to Lady Muriel Alston, and she would be as the 
•senior partner’s wife,” and he began to laugh. Checking 
himself, however, he went on, ‘‘But I can’t think what 
the deuce they’ve done with IJncle Max.” 

“Had you not better go and see Patty and this Mr. 
Peter Swift, who seems to have taken up the case for her?” 

“Ay, will I — this very day. And you will believe, 
Bertha, will you not, that I have nothing to do with this 
business, and when I have made every inquiry, and IJncle 
Max is found — as of course he will be — you will try to love 

me just a little, and will consent to ” 

Siie did not let him finish the sentence, for she put her 
hand in his. 

“ I am sorry I doubted you for one moment, Christian. 

Oo and do all you can in this matter, and believe I ” 

“Well, dearest Bertha ” 

“ I will never forget you. 

He caught her for a moment in his arms, and imprinted 
a kiss on her calm, sweet brow, while she did not attempt 
to resist, as she would have done an hour ago. Another 
minute or two and he was gone back to town by the next 
train, Bertha having consented to accompany him to the 
station, and leaving Felix Elton and Angey to the unin- 
terrupted bliss of their first real love confidence. 

When about an hour later they returned to the back 
lane from a long wander, they found Bertha standing 
alone by the little gate, looking very sad and serious. 
Even at that moment she was thinking more of Lady 
Muriel’s treachery than of her own happiness in the now 
established belief in Christian’s truth and probit3% 

Where was Captain Meyer gone? of course they asked; 
but they were too much taken up with their own bright 
prospects to do more than ascertain that he had not left 
Kichmond suddenly on account of any quarrel with 
Bertha; and then they all three went together to the 
house, where by tins time they hoped Mr. and ^Irs. Tram- 
berley had returned, since Felix Elton intended to assure 
tnem that he could not live without Angey, and that, 
withdrawing all conditions, he hoped they would give her 
to him for a wife. 


LADY MUKIEL’S SECRET. 


16 ^ 


Meanwhile Christian went on his thoughtful way to- 
town straight to his club, where he sat down and wrote 
an indignant letter to Lady Muriel, accusing her of being 
the instigator of all this trouble and disgrace, and request- 
ing to be told at once everything she knew of Max Schipp- 
heim’s disappearance. 

^ His mind thus relieved he started to pay Peter Swift a 
visit. Christian was scarcely more keen that his uncle 
should marry Patty Urske than Lady Muriel was, though 
he would liave done nothing beyond making a few dispar- 
aging remarks in order to stop the progress of events; 
still he had a sort of feeling that he did not care to be 
thrown more than was absolutely necessary into communi- 
cation with the young person Uncle Max had elected te 
double his pleasures and his toils divide.” 

By the time he reached Peter SwiftV quarters in the 
court off the Strand, it was tolerably late, and all business 
was over. Peter, however, never refused a client, even if 
he came out of hours, and Captain Christian Meyer was 
consequently admitted without difficulty. In fact, as the 
old man told him as soon as he had stated his business, it 
was lucky he had come that evening, as in the morning 
he intended to go himself to Arundale, and make such 
personal interrogatories as he considered the seriousness 
of the case warranted. 

am not a rich man, being merely a captain in a 
marching regiment with a limited allowance, but only put 
me on the track to find my uncle and discover who or 
what has detained him, and I will make it worth your 
while.” 

“ Then you think he has been detained — has not gone 
off to avoid this marriage?” 

If you knew Uncle Max you would not ask this 
question. He is the soul of honor — was never known to 
depart from his pledged word. No; either he has been 
entrapped or some accident has befallen him.” 

It is your opinion that if Mr. Schippheim is alive and 
once more becomes a free agent, it will still be his wish 
to conclude this marriage?” 

Most decidedly and emphatically it is my opinion. 

I never knew him to withdraw from a fixed purpose.” 
‘‘lam glad to hear you speak thus, young man, as it 


170 LADY MUKIEL’S SECRET. 

makes me more than commonly anxious to be of service 
in til is case.” 

^‘How? Why?” 

“ Wlien I have been to Arundale you shall know more. 
Meantime, may I ask you to make no move in the matter 
for a day or two. It is important that I should appear at 
Arundale as an uninterested stranger.” 

I have already written to Lady Muriel reproaching 
her for having kept me in tlie dark, and telling her what 
information I have received.” 

“ Dear — dear — dear! I am sorry — very sorry that you 
did not come to me before any steps were taken. How- 
ever, I will go to Arundale to-morrow, and return on the 
evening of the following day, when perhaps you will 
kindly call on me about this hour.” 

Christian agreed to this arrangement, and soon after- 
ward bent his steps westward, first to his club for some 
dinner, then by the last train to Aldershot. He thought 
mor<), perhaps, of Bertha than of his Uncle Max during 
his journey, which was a solitary one, and he quite 
resolved to stop that exchange to foreign service which 
was pending unless Bertha would consent to accompany 
him in a temporary exile, until their finances should 
improve. 


CHAPTER XXVI. 

A BROKEN TR YST. 

Patty was one of those people who cannot imagine that 
a great lady would commit a disloyal act. As a great 
lady, she from her humble sphere regarded Bertha, and 
much as she wished the secret of her whereabouts in 
London to be kept, she confided it unconditionally to Ber- 
tha, who, she was right, assuredly would not have injured 
her willingly for worlds, and yet 

As Patty was coming along one afternoon, hastening 
home to tea, after having been an errand for Mrs. Dobbs, 
who should she see standing by the lamp-post almost in 
front of Mrs. Dobbs’ door, but the very last person on 
earth she wished to see— M. Paul Brumeau. 

She stopped suddenly; for a moment she thought of 
running away anywhere rather than meet that dreadful 


LADY MURIEL’S SECRET. 


man, but it was too late; be bad seen her, was evidently 
waiting for her, and with extended arnis came huiryiug 
toward her. 

“ Ma inignonne, ma cherie. I have looked for yon, 
pined for you. Who den was wicked enough to take my 
beautiful soul from me?” 

“ Hold your tongue and don’t talk to mo like that. 
What do you want?” said Patty, with a roughness which 
was assumed to conceal her real fright. 

What shall I want but you? Are you not to me an 
angel of loveliness and grace?” 

She burst out laughing. • i 

“ Well, you can run on! I’m a plain working girl, that s 
all, and 1 don’t want any of vour precious humbug. In 
the house I’m living in here no follpwers are and 

if you don’t make off pretty sharp you’ll have Mrs. Dobbs 
sending the police after you. She is a 'lartar and no 
mistake.” 


You will not say she keep you, my beautiful Patty, 

like a slave.” , . . .. 

‘‘ Doesn’t she just, and she’ll keep you like a convict it 

she catches you — so vou had best be off. You don’t know 
how strict tiie laws are in England for them who loiter 
about honest folks’ doors.” 

“ Then take me inside the house.” 

‘‘Inside! Tliat is quite impossible, but after I have 
given some messages to Mrs. Dobbs and had my tea HI 
come and meet vou at the end of tlie street if you like. 

“You will— vou will, my beautiful latty? I always 
knew well it wa's me you love.^and cannot resist. In half- 
an-hour, then, you will come. 

“ Sav three-quarters; Mrs. Dobbs might keep me a bit. 
All this time Pattv was edging nearer and nearer to her 
own doorstep, and once more promising to meet him, she 
at last managed to get in by means of the latch-key and 
shut the door. 

In a few words she told Mrs. Dobbs what had hap- 
pened, and then she went to examine the premises at the 
back There was no legitimate exit, but latty was agile, 
and she at once saw that by getting through a window 
and dropping down on to some leads slie could manage to 

be off at once. 


172 


LADY Muriel’s secret. 


But where, in the name of wonder, is the girl going 
to?” asked Mrs. Dobbs in some dismay. 

Oh, I’ll get a cab and drive to Peter Swift’s; he’ll 
hide me somewhere,” answered Patty, hugging the ninety 
pounds still left out of her hundred which she kept sewn 
in the bosom of her dress. 

Paul Brumeau meantime was not very sure of Patty, 
and resolved to wait at the door till she returned. Three- 
quarters of an hour would soon pass, he argued. Three- 
quarters of an hour became an hour; an hour and a-half; 
two hours, and still she did not appear. Tired of waiting 
and irritated at the idea of being made a fool of, he rang 
the bell. It was answered by Mrs. Dobbs, who disclaimed 
all knowledge of both Patty’s whereabouts and herself. 

‘‘He must be mistaken in the house; perhaps the 
young person lived next door,” she said blandly. 

But Paul Brumeau was certain he was right and swore 
and vociferated in his bad English till a little crowd began 
to collect, and Mrs. Dobbs threatened to give him in 
charge if he did not depart peacefully and at once. 

To be locked up in a London police station did not 
exactly suit M. Brumeau’s views, and he preferred to take 
his departure. Turning himself round for this purpose, 
just as Mrs. Dobbs slammed the door, the full light from 
the gas lamp fell on a face he had seen before — the feat- 
ures of Max Schippheim, the senior partner. 

If a ghost had come from the dead to meet him there, 
Paul Brumeau could scarcely have been more horrified; he 
ran down the street, a cold perspiration breaking out all 
over him, and whether Max Schippheim found Patty or 
not, it was very certain Paul Brumeau never called in the 
street off Tottenham Court Boad to inquire, 
j Of course, as soon as Paul Brumeau was out of sight, 

' Mr. Schippheim rang the bell; but Mrs. Dobbs was far too 
cautious to obey the summons, and for at least half an 
hour he remained there, ringing at intervals, before she at 
last condescended to put her head 'out of a first fioor 
window. 

“You won’t get in, my good man, so you had best leave 
off making that din, and take yourself off.” 

“ The Frenchman is gone,” was the ready answer. “ I 
am Max Schippheim, and I should like to speak to you 
for a moment.” 


LADY Muriel’s secret. 


173 


Max Schippheim! you!” and Mrs. Dobbs gave way to 
such loud and hearty laughter that the whole street rang 
again. 

In vain he assured her, over and over again, that he had 
just retui-ned after an unavoidable absence of some months; 
she would not believe him, nor acknowledge that she knew 
aught of Patty or her whereabouts. He had been to Dale- 
ford, he told her, and got Patty’s address from Mrs. Bligh; 
surely she would believe now that he was all right, since 
Mrs. Bligh was her own sister. He had not been into the 
works, 01 in fact into Arundale at all, since he did not 
wish to be recognized till he had found Patty, and had 
therefore gone straight from the station to Daleford in the 
dark. 

This explanation was given in a somewhat disjointed 
manner, Mrs. Dobbs being still at the window and Max 
Schippheim on the doorstep, surrounded by a group of 
open-mouthed idlers, who could not think what had come 
to Xo. 6 , it was so lively this blessed evening. 

His words, however, had at last the effect of somewhat 
shaking Mrs. Dobbs’ unbelief, and she told him to go to 
Peter Swift, Anvill Court, Strand, who, she said, had un- 
dertaken to find him, and would soon give him the cold 
shoulder if he was anotlier Ticliborne claimant. 

She did not tell him Patty had gone to Peter Swift be- 
cause, as she shrewdly conjectured, if he was only a creat- 
ure of Brumeau’s that would take him there at once, 
while being the wrong man he was pretty sure not to run 
his head into a lawyer’s office, which she told him Swift’s 
cfuarters were, adding, however, that he could go even at 
that hour, since Peter was too much a man of business to 
sleep off the premises. 

Max, finding he could get no more out of Mrs. Dobbs, 
finally hailed a hansom and drove off Strandward. 

In Anvill Court it was very dark and somber-looking; 
he managed to find the plate, however, with Peter Swift’s 
name, and stumbling up an unlighted staircase he fell 
against the door of the old man’s room, but no one an- 
swered his summons, which was a pretty loud one with 
his fist. There was not a sound but the echo of his re- 
peated thumps and the distant rolling of vehicles in the 
Strand. 

It wanted an hour yet of the time Peter Swift had ap- 


174 



LADY Muriel’s secret. _ ^ 

pointed to meet Christian Meyer, and he had not returned 
from Am n dale. 

Where then was Patty! She could not be inside, since 
the door had been fast locked ever since Peter went away 
and took the key in his pocket. ^ 

But of her intended visit there of course Max knew 
nothing, and finally wended his way slowly down the 
desolate staircase, vowing vengeance the while against i 
Mrs. Dobbs for sending him on what he was pleased to 
consider a wild goose chase. -3 

He sauntered back up the court, into the Strand, standing ' 
for awhile at the opening to consider what was the next 
step to take, since he seemed destined to be foiled at every 
issue. 

Arundale!” He supposed he had better go to Arun- 
dale in the morning, make his return known far and 
wide, and trust that the clamor would sooner or later 
read) Patty’s ears. • ^ 

AVhile he was still considering the matter, some one ' ; 

pushed against him in an endeavor to get through tlie little 
passage leading into the court, and in fact nearly knocked 
him down, for Max Schippheim was not nearly as firm on 
his feet, or as robust as he was in the old Arundaie days,, 
when the senior partner reigned supreme. ] 

‘^Christian!” j 

Uncle Max! They told me you were lost. Can it be j 
possible that I have had a practical joke palmed olf upon 
me?*’ 

Well, I have been aw’ay for thr.ee months on an er- c 

rand on which I never intended to go — been carried oS,. | 

ill fact.” I 

‘^And by whom?” J 

Max Schippheim shrugged his shoulders. 

“It is strange you know nothing of the matter, Chriis- ? 
tian.” ‘ ^ 

“ It was only the day before yesterday I heard by chance 
from Bertha Yorke, who is staying with friends at Bich- 
mond, that you were absent. I bear but little Arundaie 
news now, I am — well, scarcely as friendly with Lady 
Muriel as I used to be.” i 

“ Ah! that is good, very good. And where are you go- J 
ing now?” , ’’ 

“ To see a certain Peter Swift who has been to Arun- 


LADY MURIEL’S SECllET. 

dale, to make inquiries about you, and is to meet me at 
eiglit o’clock.” 

‘‘ He lias not returned. I have been there. 

‘“Oh) he will not be long. Let us go in and wait; 
meantime tell me where in Heaven’s name you have been 
all this time.” , 

“First tell me, Christian, where is my ratty 

•“ Oh, with Mrs. Dobbs in Street.” 

The woman there denies all knowledge of her. i 
found Paul Brumeaii at the door.” 

“AVell, this beats everything. I wish Swift would 
comeback.” 

Bv this time they had reached the landing on which 
Peter Swift’s room was situated, A dim lamp was now 
burning over the door; it was evident that he had lo- 
turned. Still, to their repeated' knocking, as before, no 
answer was given. 

“This is altogether the most mysterious affair I ever 
had anvthing to do with. Why the devil doesn t the fel- 
low open the door!” cried Christian, gro\ving impatient. 
“Hallo there, Swift— let me in— let me m; I am Chris- 
tian Meyer, come by your own appointment. 

There was a good deal of shuffling and movement heard 
inside, and finally the door was opened a very few inches 
■by Peter Swift himself. 

“I am sorry— it is very inconvenient,” he said; “can 
you not come in the morning? I have heard nothing at 
Arundale that will not keepHll then.” ^ ^ 

“No indeed I cannot; I must be back at Aldei snot, 
besides^ I have got some one here whose presence will 
render all further search unnecessary.” 

“Max Schippheim!” exclaimed Peter Swift, as he came 
forward on to the landing where the dim flicker of the 
lamp fell just clearly enough on Maxs features to lender 

them recognizable. _ , , 

He hek? out his hand, which was warmly grasped by 
the man who called himself Peter Swift. 

“I did not expect to find you here, Peter, my o.d 
friend,” said Max Schippheim, with some emotion. 

“No. Times have changed with both of us with you 
for the better, with me* for the worse— since those old 
days now long syne. But come inside, my good fuend. 


176 


LADY MUUIEL’s SECKET, 


come inside, and tell us all about your wanderings. There 
is no reason now why the door sliould be defended/^ 

No, indeed, there was not, for scarcely had Max ad- 
vanced three steps before a small white band was laid on 
his shoulder, and Patty, with wide-open eyes brimming 
over with tears, was gazing into his honest face. 

He caught her to his heart and kissed away the tears as 
they glistened off her long lashes, regardless of the presence 
of two witnesses, who stood watching them with as much 
interest as though they were personally interested in this 
somewhat unusual love affair. 


CHAPTER XXVIL 

HOME AT LAST. 

The wedding was over; it had been a very quiet one, 
without fuss or ado, taking place by special license from 
Mrs. Dobbs’ house, with no witnesses save that good 
woman herself, Christian, who acted as best man, Peter 
Swift, who gave away the bride, and Bertha Yorke, who 
lent Patty her prettiest dress, her own being at Daleford, 
and who asked, as an especial favor, to be allowed to be 
present. 

As yet, Max Schippheim had vouchsafed no reason for 
his unaccountable absence. ‘‘ Till Patty was his wife he 
would give no explanations,” he said. The only portion 
of the mystery which had as yet been cleared up was Peter 
Swift’s antecedents, and his reason for considering it his 
rightful duty to give away the bride, since she was his 
granddaughter, he told them. 

Nor was Patty to go dowerless to the altar. The ten 
pounds she had given old Peter in his capacity of petti- 
fogger, when he little knew that the bright beauty seek- 
ing for her lover was his own kith and kin, was repaid 
with interest, and a bag containing a good many gold 
])ieces, and well-worn bank notes, was presented to Patty 
as a wedding gift from her penitent grandfather. 

Ay, Patty^s mother had married a gentleman, as old 
Mrs. IJrske had told her — a gentleman who would have 
brought her to the workhouse save for the old woman’s 
interference, who took her child home to die when little 


LADY Muriel’s secret. 


177 


Patty was born; assuredly he brouglit himself to the gut- 
ter, and mining old Peter, reduced him from a position 
of independence — he was a small landed squire when Max 
Schippheini first came to seek fortune at Arundale — to 
the pettifogging, money-grubbing career into which first 
his necessities and then his inclination had impelled him. 

The health of the bride and bridegroom had been drunk. 
In half an hour they were to start for Arundale, where 
Max Schippheim’s presence was absolutely necessary, 
every department in the works being in a state approach- 
ing chaos, as Andrew had acknowledged in a letter the 
senior partner had received from him that very morning. 

Max Schippbeim rose to return thanks for the toast, and 
his friends’ good wishes. 

And novv,” he said, your curiosity shall be gratified, 
and you shall learn that while you have all been in search 
of me I have been to Australia.” 

To Australia?” tliey exclaimed in chorus. 

Yes. I was sent for to Liverpool by my partner, 
Alston, because my presence was necessary to identify a 
clerk who had robbed us to a great extent a few months 
previously. I §tarted, leaving a note for little Patty with 
Paul Brumeau, wliom at that moment I believed to be 
devoted to us both. Needless to say, he never delivered it. 
Peaching Skene, a junction about half-way between Arun- 
dale and Liverpool, I met Herbert Alston, who informed 
me that it was useless to proceed to Liverpool, since the 
man we wanted to convict had bolted from there, and he 
ascertained on good authority was gone to Plymouth, 
where he expected to catch an outward-bound ship for 
Melbourne; that he had studied Bradshaw for half-an-hour 
in my behalf, and there was just time enough for us to 
reach Plymouth, have the escaped felon arrested, and re- 
turn by the day and hour fixed for the wedding. The 
train which was to carry us on dashed into the ‘station at 
this moment. I had no o})portunity of verifying his 
statement and accompanied him. So far he was rightj 
the Orang-outang, Australian steamer, was lying off 
Plymouth, waiting for letters and last communications 
from shore. We^boarded her, accompanied by a detect- 
ive in plain clothes Herbert Alston had had the foresight 
to proVide, but his information had been incorrect: no 
man of the name of our defaulting clerk was in the ship, 


17a 


LADY Muriel’s secret. 


lior, in fact, of Ins p6rsoluil appearance, for as ill luck 
would liave ifc, I was on board that ship for a good many 
weeks. How it was managed I know not, whotlier it was rnj 
fault or Alston’s, but during tlie hasty search we all made 
for the man I got locked into a cabin and was some time 
before I could get the door opened. Meunwliile the ship 
had started, and Alston and the detective had gone 
ashore without me.” 

Tliis announcement was received in dead silence. There 
was no one sitting by that table who did not believe that 
Herbert Alston was "implicated in this business — no one 
but simple-minded Max Schippheim himself, who would 
not think his partner guilty of an evil action he would 
have scorned to commit himself. 

By the time each one of those present had decided in 
his own mind the Alstons’ motives for what had occurred, 
Mr. Shippheim went on. 

It was useless for me to rage or swear or offer a large . 
sum of money, wliich I did; nothing would induce the 
captain to put back; if we touched at Cape St. Vincent, 
wdiich we might do, I could send a message or land; if 
not I must go back fi-om Adelaide. Ijong before we 
reached Cape St. Vincent 1 was confined to my ben'th in a 
raging fever, and whether we touched or not I do not 
even at this moment know. All 1 do know is that I made 
a very wearisome convalescence and was scarcely able to 
be conveyed on shore when we arrived at Adelaide. I 
managed, however, as soon as possible, to find myself on 
a home-bound ship, and the thought, that every knot w^e 
traversed brought me nearer to my darling Patf-y, helped 
to raise my spirits and bring me back in something like 
my old fortn of health and strength.” 

And will you not take some means to punish those 
who sent you on this long journey and brougiit about so 
much vexation and discomfort?” asked Christian, in wdiom 
the young blood waxed hot. 

But Max Schippheim only said, smilingly — I^et those 
laugh who win, my boy. Lady Muriel has lost her little 
game; she will be the greater sufferer; she has been pit- 
ting her strength against mine for some years now, trying 
to distance me and put Alston and yourself, Christian, in 
my place.” 

Cliristian got very red. 


LADY Muriel’s secret. 


179 


** I assure you, Uncle Mux, I have nothing whatever to 
do witli ” 

My abduction; no, my boy, Ido not think you have 
for one moment, or I should certainly not have tlie inten- 
tion 1 now entertain of making a handsome settlement on 
you tlie day you marry my very dear young friend. Miss 
Bertlia, tliere.” 

It was now Bertha’s turn to grow rosy red, wliich she 
did, all the more because at this juncture Christian 
squeezed her hand under the table, while he expressed his 
warmest thanks to his uncle in a short but neatly ar- 
ranged sentence. 

And now,’’ said Max Schippheim, ‘Mve must be off, 
or we shall miss the train. Come along, Patty, we have 
plenty of work in hand to bring the old place into work- 
ing order again.” 

“ One moment before yon go,” said Peter Swiff, ‘‘let 
me put in a little request.” 

A thousand if you like, to-day, old friend; I feel so 
happy.” 

“ Let your first duty, when you arrive at Arundale, be 
to discharge Paul Brurneau at once — send him out 
of the place at a moment’s notice. He is the real instiga- 
tor of all this mischief; love for little Patty here has made 
him mad, and he suggested to — well, never mind who he 
suggested it to, but he suggesied that if you were got out 
of the way for a time, he would marry Patty, and thus 
prevent what was considered a mesalliance. 

“ I’d have died first,” ]nit in the bride, while her slave 
and master linked her arm in his^ and remarked that he 
did not think Paul Brurneau would venture to show his 
face again in Arundale. 

And he was right. Paul Brurneau went back to his 
own country, from whence he made at various intervals 
many apjdications to J.ady Muriel Alston for money. 

“ And now good- by,” went on Schippheim, in cheery 
tones; “ come back to Arundale, Swift, and if the house 
Avhere you used to live is turned into a wing of the factory, 
never mind. We’ll find you another, and you’ll be most 
useful to mein many ways.” 

But Peter Swift shook his he.ad. 

‘‘ He had got used to London and London ways,” he 
said, and he would rather go on to the end, which was 


180 


LADY Muriel’s secret. 


not very far off now, picking money up after his own 
fashion. The girl would be all the richer for it some 
day.” 

The only concession he would make was at Patty’s re- 
quest that he would live in more comfortable quarters 
even if he retained his old office in the court off the 
Strand. So it was arranged he should have a couple of 
rooms at Mrs. Dobbs’, who promised to look after his 
creature comforts, which she did most willingly now she 
had ascertained that he was able to pay for it. 

And all details being finally settled, Mr. and Mrs. Max 
Schippheim started for Arundale, Patty in some trepida- 
tion of mind as to the reception she would meet with from 
Lady Muriel, and the life she would be led by the jun- 
ior partner’s wife when she took up her seniority of posi- 
tion by Max’s side. Not one word of her fears and 
anxieties on this subject did she, however, dare express to 
her husband. 


CHAPTER XXVIII. 

CHECKMATED. 

Great were the rejoicings in Arundale when it became 
known that Max Schippheim and his bride were coming 
home. 

The majority of the people were tired of the reign of chaos, 
and longed for the old days of order and regular payments 
to return. There was scarcely a man in Arundale but 
would have ducked Paul Brumeau with the greatest pleas- 
ure if he had only received a sign from the master that 
such a proceeding would be acceptable, nor is it altogether 
doubtful whether their allegiance to Max Schippheim 
would not have caused them to include Herbert Alston 
himself in the ducking had they known how much he 
was involved in the late suspicious abduction. 

As matters were, however, they could only give vent to 
their feelings in triumphal arches, much shouting, drink- 
ing, and general conviviality. They had intended to drag 
the newly married pair in an open carriage from the sta- 
tion through the town, but they were balked of this 
scheme by the pair arriving in the dark on the day previ- 
ous to the one on which they were expected, and walking 


LADY 3rUEIEL’S SECEET. 


181 


quietly from the railway to Max Scliipplieim’s quarters in 
the works. Max Schippheim had evidently no intention 
of encouraging any fuss or display, for he went in among 
the men on the morrow with a nod and a good day, just 
as if he had seen them but a week before, and there had 
been no unusual circumstances attending his prolonged 
absence. 

He had a private conversation with Andrews, which 
lasted over an hour, and resulted in the dismissal of sev- 
eral troublesome hands,” and the packing up and send- 
ing off of all Paul Bru mean’s tools and effects. Captain 
Christian Meyer was going to send down another designer 
in chief from one of the Art Schools in London. So 
Andrews told one or two of the superior workmen, an 
announcement which evoked a cheery acknowledgment 
of Christian, who was a considerable favorite in Arun- 
dale. 

Thus passed at least twenty-four hours, and still the 
two partners had not met, nor any sign of welcome home 
been given by Lady Muriel. 

Keport said she was ill, that her nerves had been over- 
strained by all the mental worry she had undergone dur- 
ing Max Schippheim’s absence; when, however, he was 
told this by Patty, who had heard all the Arundale news 
from Elsie Bligh, he half shut his eyes and nodded his 
head and chuckled, while he repeated ahe one word 

checkmated ” more than once. Th)e present aspect of 
affairs seemed to amuse Mr. Schippheim vastly; it was 
just that working out of a difficult bit of play in the great 
game of life which gave his astute mind subject for obser- 
vation. It was his turn to have the best of it, he fancied, 
but he wondered none the less what move Lady Muriel 
would try for, now that she had scarcely a piece to com- 
mand. 

Alston is an arrant coward; he is keeping out of the 
way, but I never thought her ladyship was a coward be- 
fore. I quite expected her to have overwhelmed us with 
fuss and blarney. 

As it happened, however, at the end of two days the 
partners met accidentally in the quadrangle and shook 
hands. Herbert Alston got very red, and shuffled from 
one foot to the other, but Max Schippheim was impertur- 
bably cool. 


182 


LADY Muriel’s secret. 


'‘Got back, yon see, at last. It was an inconvenient ,, 
slip that ship going off so suddenly; can’t think how I 
managed to miss you. However, a sea voyage is always 
considered beneficial. How is Lady Muriel?” 

"Very unwell, very unwell, I am sorry to say.” 

"Hear, dear, I am^sorry. When she is better tell her I 
hope she will come and patronize my little wife; she is 
rather shy, poor child.” 

And Max Schippheim passed on, the same stealthy smile 
creeping about his face, which had more than once lurked 
there of late. 

Could he have heard Lady Muriel’s indignant outburst 
when his message was givei^her by her husband, it would 
probably have ripened into a laugh. 

" Call on her, call on that horrid little drab that I have 
done every thing I can to keep out of Arundale? Never! 
No, Herbert, I will be brought into no collision with Max 
Schippheirri’s wife, and in order to avoid all possibility of 
it, I intend to leave Arundale.” 

" Leave Arundale, leave Dale House! why where do you 
intend to go?” 

-" To London, where my artistic tastes, and my knowl- 
edge of organization and the reforms necessary to place 
large undertakings in good working order will be thorough- 
ly appreciated.” 

Herbert Alston gave a prolonged whistle, but whether 
he was sorry for his wife’s failures or the London under- 
takings, he did not venture to say. He only asked — 

"And what is to be done with Dale House? What am 
I to do?” 

" You must let Dale House, and take a room somewhere 
in the town where you can come occasionally to transact 
business.” 

Mr. Alston looked at her in utter astonishment; he 
eould not conceive why she should take recent occurrences 
BO much to heart, especially since Max Schippheim did 
not seem inclined to blame them for what had hap- 
pened; but of course, being her husband, Herbert Alston 
knew nothing of the true reason why she had taken such 
a dislike to Arundale and its neighborhood. He was per- 
haps the only individual for miles round who had not the 
slightest inkling of her secret love for Christian Meyer. 
She had not even yet told him that that morning she had 


LADY MUKIEL’S SECKET. ibS 

deceived a letter from Bertha informing her of ' her en- 
gagement to Christian, and telling her of Max Schipp- 
heim’s generosity about money. This was the severest 
stab Lady Muriel had received for many a day, and the 
wound was still too fresh for her to probe it by giving her 
liusband the chance of discussing the topic from all its 
bearings. That he must do so sooner or later she knew 
full well. Meantime she felt that befall what might &he 
must leave that place and return to it no more, at all 
events not till a new epoch had arisen in her affairs. 

Like a runaway culprit, then, she prepared to fly, not 
because she feared contamination by tlie tussle for place 
with Mr. Schippheim’s* low-born bride, as most people 
would suspect, but because she had notsufficienc strength 
to endure the sight of that great happiness whicli she 
knew would be paraded before her eyes whenever Chris- 
tian and Bertha came, as they frequently would, to Arun- 
dale. 

‘^She was ill,” she said, very ill, must start at once 
for Cannes, or the Eiviera, or somewhere in the South, 
and when she came back she would settle in London and 
return to Arundale no more. If Herbert objected she 
bad money of her own and would make her own arrange- 
ments.” 

He did not attempt to stop her, but when she was on 
the point of starting and he had just heard from Mr. 
Schippheim of Bertha’s engagement, he asked her with a 
sort of sneer whether the marriage should take place from 
her new house in town. 

Did even Herbert Alston begin to have suspicions? 

Certainly not!” she answered. The Traniberleys 
have arranged this affair, let them have the trouble and 
inconvenience of the wedding. I have never been con- 
- suited.” 

And so it was, one sunny day in the early spring, while 
Lady Muriel, who had departed without ever seeing Max 
Schippheim, was basking in the gorgeous sunshine of the 
fair South, Bertha was married to Christian Meyer in the 
parish church at Richmond. It was a double wedding, 
for at the same time and place Angey Trarnberley became 
tlie wife of that finest of London bachelors, the Hon. 
Felix Elton. The latter couple started for the South, 
-and on more than one occasion met Lady Muriel, who 


184 


LADY MUEIEL^S SECRET. 


since she had nothing else to engage her thoughts, had 
become devoted to Eric, who was her almost constant 
companion. 

Bertha and Christian took a shorter ramble. He had 
not got otf that foreign service exchange and they conse- 
quently preferred to remain as long as possible in their 
own country, for both of them had a sort of dread of 
that exile to India which Christian had sought so ardently 
only a few months before. 

When Max Schippheim heard of it he at once declared 
that he would not permit Christian to leave the country. 
He wanted him at the works he said, to take his place 
when he grew older. He had better leave the service 
altogether, and take Dale House from the Alstons, giving 
Ml. Alston a couple of rooms in it. 

So it was all settled, and that Herbert Alston occupied 
his rooms at Dale House much more frequently than he 
did his wife’s London House, the chronicles of Arundale 
are not backward in relating. 

Nor did he prove nearly so difficult to deal with in busi- 
ness matters since his wife’s influence was removed; or 
perhaps it was because the recollection of what had hap- 
pened in the past was never wholly obliterated from his 
mind, and rendered him just a little subservient to the 
decrees of the senior partner and his nephew. 

As for Bertha and Patty, they remained firm friends, 
the roughness of manner and tone that Mrs. Schippheim’s 
early surroundings had imj^arted to her being considerably 
decreased by association with Bertha’s more gentle and 
refined nature. Only one thought troubled Patty during 
the early days of her married life. What had become of 
Joe?” 

He was still working at Belton, people said, but if this 
were so, it was not in a very steady manner, Patty feared, 
since reports reached her that Joe had taken to drinking 
and evil courses. It was a great misery to honest, right- 
minded Patty to think of this, and after brooding over it 
in private for a long while she decided to consult her 
friend Bertha as to whether or not they could do anything 
to mend matters. 

Bertha at once recommended that Max Schippheim 
should be told witliout delay; a step to which Patty at first 
objected, for she thought of Joe as her old lover, and re- 


LADY Muriel’s secret. 


185 


membered the troubles his defense of her had brought 
iibout. She was overruled, however, and a happy thing it 
was that she consented to follow Bertha’s counsel, since 
Mr. Schippheim at once sent for Joe, whom he had quite 
forgotten in his own happiness, and offered to reinstate 
him in his old employment, if he would promise to take 
the pledge, and give up frequenting loose places of enter- 
tainment. 

Joe, who would have promised anything to get back to 
Arundale, at once consented, ay! and he kept his word 
too. Joe was made of the right sort of stuff, tliough the 
rough handling he had received had somewhat frayed the 
fabric here and there. 

Someone in Arundale, however, was found to darn over 
the worn places, so neatly too that they became scarcely 
perceptible. That someone was not Patty. Joe had quite 
enough good sense to regard his love for her as an almost 
forgotten dream, though they always had a few cordial 
words for each other when they met. 

No, it was prettv little Elsie Bligh who took the smooth- 
ing of Joe’s life into her charge, and acquitted herself of 
her self-imposed task so effectually that when they were 
married^and had a cottage of their own they were pro- 
nounced the happiest couple in Arundale, and Elsie was 
never tired of showing the neighbors who called on her 
the many beautiful, precious household treasures which 
had been the gift of Max Schippheim and his true-hearted 
wife. 


THE EHD. 


& tMB SSASjJ)E LrBMABY.—Ordijuwy mtzion^ 

- — - - ■ - - ■ - ■ ■ — ■ " g 

CHARLOTTE, EMILY, AND ANNE BRONTE’S WORKSo 

3 Jane Eyre (in small type) 

896 Jane Eyre (in bold, handsome type) 2(f 

162 Shirley 26 

311 The Professor 10 

829 Wuthering Heights 

438 Villette 20 

967 The Tenant of Wildfell Hall 20 

1098 Agnes Grey 20 

MISS M. E. BRADDON’S WORKS. 

26 Aurora Floyd 20 

69 To the Bitter End 20 

89 The Lovels of Arden 20 

95 Dead Men’s Shoes 20 

109 Eleanor’s Victory 20 

114 Darrell Markham. 10 

i40 The Lady Lisle 10 

171 Hostages to Fortune 2Q 

190 Henry Dunbar 20 

215 Birds of Prey 20 

235 An Open Verdict 20 

251 Lady Aiidley’s Secret 20 

254 The Octoioon 10 

260 Charlotte’s Inheritance 2G 

287 Leighton Grange 10 

295 Lost for Love 20 

322 Dead- Sea Fruit 20 

459 The Doctor’s Wife 20 

469 Rupert Godwin 20 

481 Vixen 26 

482 The Cloven Foot 20 

500 Joshua Haggard’s Daughter 20 

519 Weavers and Weft 10 

525 Sir Jasper’s Tenant 20 

539 A Strange World : 20 

550 Fenton’s Quest 20 

562 John March mont’s Legacy 20 

572 The Lady’s Mile 20 

579 Strangers and Pilgrims 2(? 

581 Only a Woman (Edited by Miss M. E. Braddon) 20 

619 Taken at the Flood 20 

641 Only a Clod 20 

649 Publicans and Sinners 20 

656 George Caulfield’s Journey 10 

665 The Shadow in the Corner 10 

666 Bound to John Company; or, Robert Ainsleigh 20 

701 Barbara; or, Splendid Misery 20 

705 Put to the Test (Edited by Miss M. E. Braddon) 28 

734 Diavola; or, Nobody’s Daughter. Part 1 20 

734 Diavola; or, Nobody’s Daughter. Part II. 26 


THIS SEASIDE LIBRAJIT. — Ordinary Edition. ns 


MISS M. E. BRADDON’S WORKS.— Continued. 

811 Dudley Carleon 1® 

828 The Fatal Marriage 1® 

837 Just as I Am; or, A Living Lie 20 

942 Asphodel 20 

1154 The JMisIetoe Bough 20 

1265 Mount Royal 20 

1469 Flower and IV eed 10 

1553 The Golden Calf 20 

1638 Married in Haste (Edited by Miss M. E. Braddon) 20 

RHODA BROUGHTON S WORKS. 

186 Good-Bye, Sweetheart ” 10 

269 Red as a liose is She 20 

285 Cometh Up as a Flower. 10 

402 “Not Wisely, But Too Well” 20 

458 Nancy 20 

526 Joan 20 

762 Second Thoughts 20 

WILKIE COLLINS’ WORKS. 

10 The Woman in White 20 

14 The Dead Secret 20 

22 Man and Wife 20 

32 The Q«ieen of Hearts ^ 

88 Antonina 20 

42 Hide-and-Seek 20 

76 3'he New Magdalen 10 

94 The Law and The Lady 20 

180 Armadale 20 

191 My Lady’s Money 10 

225 The Two Destinies. 1(1 

250 No Name 20 

286 After Dark 10 

409 The Haunted Hotel 10 

433 A Shocking Story 10 

487 A Rogue’s Life 10 

551 The Yellow Mask 10 

583 Fallen Leaves 20 

654 Poor Miss Finch 20 

675 The Moonstone 20 

696 Jezebel’s Daughter 20 

713 The Captain’s Last Love 10 

721 Basil 20 

745 The Magic Spectacles 10 

905 Duel in Herne Wood 10 

928 Who Killed Zebedee? 10 

971 The Frozen Deep 10 

090 The Black Robe 20 

1164 Your Money or Your Life 10 

Hecrt and Science. A Story of the Present Time. .... 2® 


IV THE SEASIDE LIBRARY. — Ordinary Edition. 


J. FENIMORE COOPER’S WORKS. 

222 Last of the Mohicans 20 

224 The Deerslayer 2C 

226 The Pathfinder 20 

229 The Pioneers 20 

231 The Prairie 20 

233 The Pilot 20 

585 The Water-Witch 20 

590 The Two Admirals 20 

615 The Red Rover 20 

761 Wing and'Wing 20 

940 The Spy. 20 

1066 The Wyandotte 20 

1257 Afioat and Ashore 20 

1262 Miles Wallingford (Sequel to “Afloat and Ashore”) 20 

1569 The Headsman; or, The Abbaye des Vignerons 20 

1605 The Monikins 20 

1661 The Heidenmauer; or, The Benedictines. A Legend of 

the Rhine 20 

1691 The Crater; or, Vulcan’s Peak. A Tale of the Pacific 20 

CHARLES DICKENS’ WORKS. 

20 The Old Curiosity Shop 20 

100 A Tale of Two Cities 20 

102 Hard Times 10 

118 Great Expectations 20 

187 David Copperfield 20 

200 Nicholas Nickleby 20 

213 Barnaby Rudge 20 

218 Dombey and Son 20 

239 No Thoroughfare (Charles Dickens and Wilkie Collins) 10 

247 Martin Chuzzlewit 20 

272 The Cricket on the Hearth 10 

284 Oliver Twist 20 

289 A Christmas Carol 10 

297 ^Tl:te Haunted Man 10 

304 Little Dorrit 20 

308 The Chimes 10 

317 The Battle of Life 10 

325 Our Mutual Friend 20 

337 Bleak House 20 

352 Pickwick Papers 20 

359 Somebody’s Luggage 10 

367 Mrs. Lirriper’s Lodgings 10 

372 Lazy Tour of Two Idle Apprentices 10 

375 Mugby Junction 10 

403 Tom Tiddler’s Ground 10 

498 The Uncommercial Traveler 20 

521 Master Humphrey’s Clock 10 

625 Sketches by Boz 20 

639 Sketches of Young Couples 10 

627 The Mudfog Papers, &c 10 


TIUB/ SEASIDE LIBRARY. — Ordinary Edition. 


CHARLES DICKENS’ WORKS.-Coiitinued. 

860 The Mystery of Edwin Drood 20 

900 Pictures From Italy 10 

1411 A Child’s History of England 20 

1464 The Picnic Papers 20 

1558 Three Detective Anecdotes, and Other Sketches 10 

1682 The Plays and Poems of Charles Dickens, wdth a few Miscel- 
lanies in Prose, now First Collected. Edited, Prefaced, 
and Annotated by Richard Herne Shepherd. First half. 20 
11682 The Plays and Poems of Charles Dickens, with a few Mis- 
cellanies in Prose, now First Collected. Edited, Pref- 
aced, and Annotated by Richard Herne Shepherd. Sec- 
ond half .’ 20 

WORKS BY THE AUTHOR OF “ DORA THORNE.” 

449 More Bitter than Death 10 

618 Madolin’s Lover 20 

656 A Golden Dawn 10 

678 A Dead Heart 10 

718 Lord Lynne’s Choice; or. True Love Never Runs Smooth. 10 

746 Which Loved Him Best 20 

846 Dora Thorne 26 

921 At War with Herself 10 

931 The Sin of a Lifetime 20 

1013 Lady Gwendoline’s Dream 10 

1018 Wife in Name Only 20 

1044 Like No Other Love 10 

1060 A Woman’s War 10 

1072 Hilary’s Folly 10 

1074 A Queen Amongst Women 10 

1077 A Gilded Sin 10 

1081 A Bridge of Love 10 

1085 The Fatal Lilies 10 

1099 Wedded and Parted 10 

1107 A Bride From the Sea , 10 

1110 A Rose in Thorns 10 

1115 The Shadow of a Sin 10 

1122 Redeemed by Love 10 

1126 The Story of a Wedding-Ring 10 

1127 Love’s Warfare 20 

1132 Repented at Leisure 20 

1179 From Gloom to Sunlight 20 

1209 Hilda 20 

1218 A Golden Heart 20 

1266 Ingledew House 10 

1288 A Broken Wedding-Ring 20 

1305 Love For a Day; or, Under the Lilacs 10 

1357 The Wife’s Secret 10 

1393 Two Kisses 10 

1460 Between Two Sins 10 

1640 The Cost of Her Love. 20 

1664 Romance of a Black Veil. 20 


SEASIDE LIBRARY.— Ordinary Edition. 

• — — 

“THE DUCHESS’” WORKS. 

358 Phyllis (small type) 10 

589 Phyllis (large type) 20 

393 Molly Bawn 20 

445 The Baby 10 

499 “Airy Fairy Lilian ” 20 

771 Beauty's Daughters 20 

855 How Snooks Got Out of It 10 

1010 i\lrs. Geoffrey 20 

1169 Faith and Unfaith 20 

1518 Portia; or, “ By Passions Pocked.” 20 

1587 Monica, and A Rose DistilTd 10 

1666 Loys, Lord Berresford, and Other Talcs 20 

ALEXANDER DUMAS’ WORKS. 

144 The Twin Lieutenants 10 

151 The Russian Gipsy 10 

155 The Count of Monte-Cristo (Quadruple Number) 40 

160 The Black Tulip 10 

167 The Queen's Necklace 20 

172 The Chevalier de Maison Rouge.. . j 20 

184 The Countess de Charny 20 

188 Nanon 10 

193 Joseph Balsamo; or, Memoirs of a Physician 20 

194 The Conspirators 10 

198 Isabel of Bavaria 10 

301 Catherine Blum 10 

223 Beau Tancrede; or. The Marriage Verdict (small type) 10 

997 Beau Tancrede; or, The Marriage Verdict (large t} pe) .... 20 

228 The Regent's Daughter 10 

244 The Three Guardsmen 20 

268 The Forty-five Guardsmen 20 

276 The Page of the Duke of Savoy 10 

278 Six Years Later; or, Taking the Bastile 20 

283 Twenty Years After ' 20 

298 Captain Paul 10 

306 Three Strong Men 10 

318 Ingentte 10 

331 Adventures of a Marquis. First half 20 

331 Adventures of a Marquis. Second lialf 20 

343 The Mohicans of Paris. Vol. 1. (small type) 10 

1565 The Mohicans of Paris. Vol I. (large type) 20 

1565 The Mohicans of Paris. Vol, IT. (large type) 20 

1565 The Mohicans of Paris. Vol. 111. (large type) 20 

1565 The Mohicans of Paris. Vol. IV. (large type) 20 

844 Ascanio 10 

608 The Watchmaker 20 

616 Tlie Two Dianas,. 20 

622 Andree de Taverney 20 

664 Vicomte de Bragelonne (1st Series) 20 

664 Vicomte de Bragelonne (2d Senes). . 2C 


TRE SEASIDE LTBRARY.—Ordinary Edition. vn 


iLEXANDEE DUMAS’ >VORKS.-Contiwued^ 

664 Vicomte de Brngelonne (3ii Series). 20 

664 Vicomte de Bragelonne (4th Series) 20 

688 Chicot, the Jester 20 

849 Doctor Basilius 20 

1452 Salvator; Being the continuation and conclusion of “The 

Mohicans of Paris.” Vol. 1 20 

1452 Salvator; Being the continuation and conclusion of “ The 

Mohicans of Paris,” Vol. II 20' 

1452 Salvator; Being the continuation and conclusion of “ The 

Mohicans of Paris.” Vol. HI 20 

1452 Salvator; Being the continuation and conclusion of “ The 

Mohicans of Paris.” Vol. IV 20 

1452 Salvator; Being tlie continuation and conclusion of “The 

Mohicans of Paris.” Vol. V 20 

1561 The Corsican Brothers 10 

1592 Marguerite de Valois. An Historical Romance 20 

GEORGE EBERS’ WORKS. 

712 Uarda: A Romance of Ancient Eg3’pt 20 

756 Homo Sum 10 

812 An EiTYlitian Princess 20 

880 The Sisters 20 

1120 The Emperor 20 

1397 The Burgomaster’s Wife. A Tale of the Siege of Leyden. 20 
1594 Only a Word 20 

GEORGE ELIOT’S WORKS. 

7 Adam Bede , 20 

11 The Mill on the Floss (small type) 10 

941 Tlie Mill on tlie Floss (large type) 20 

15 Romola 20 

35 Felix Holt, the Radical 20 

o8 Silas Marner 10 

70 Middicmarch 20 

80 Daniel Derouda 20 

202 Mr. Gilfil’s Love Story 10 

217 Sad Fortunes of Rev. Amos Barton 10 

277 Brother Jacob 10 

309 Janet’s Repentance 10 

527 Impressions of 'I’lieophrastus Such 10 

1276 The Spanish Gypsy ; A Poem 20 

MRS. FORRESTER’S WORKS. 

395 Fair Women 20 

431 Diana Carcw 20 

474 Viva 20 

504 Rhoua 20 


VlTl 


THE SEA6IBE LIBRARY.— Ordinary Edition, 


MRS. FORRESTER’S WORKS.— Continued. 

538 A Young Man’s Fancy 10 

556 Mignon 20 

573 The Turn of Fortune’s Wheel 10 

600 Dolores 20 

620 In a Country House 10 

632 Queen Elizabeth’s Garden 16 

858 Roy and Viola 26 

894 My Hero 2G 

1163 My Lord and My Lady 26 

1471 I Have Lived and Loved 20 

1588 From Olympus to Hades 20 


EMILE GABORIAU’S WORKS. 

408 File No. 113 20 

465 Monsieur Lecoq. First half 20 

465 Monsieur Lecoq. Second half 20 

476 The Slaves of Paris. First half 20 

476 The Slaves of Paris. Secona half 20 

490 IMarriage at a Venture 10 

494 The Mystery of Orcival 20 

501 Other People’s Money 20 

509 Within an Inch of His Life 20 

515 The Widow Lerouge 20 

523 The Clique of Gold 20 

671 The Count’s Secret. Part 1 20 

671 The Count’s Secret. Part II 20 

704 Captain Contanceau; or, The Volunteers of 1792 10 

741 The Downward Path ; or. A House Built on Sand ( La 

Degringolade). Parti 20 

741 The Downward Path; or, A House Built on Sand (La 

Degringolade). Part II 20 

758 The Little Old Man of the Batignolles 10 

778 The Men of the Bureau 10 

789 Promises of Marriage 10 

813 The 13th Hussars 10 

834 A Thousand Francs Reward 10 

899 Max’s Marriage; or, The Vicomte’s Choice 10 

1184 The Marquise de Brinvilliers 20 

MARY CECIL HAY’S WORKS. 

8 The Arundel ]\Iotto 10 

407 The Arundel Motto (in large type) 20 

9 Old IMyddelton’s Money 10 

427 Old Myddelton’s IMoney (in large type) : . . 20 

17 Hidden Perils 70 

434 Hidden Perils (in large type) 20 

23 The Squire’s Legacy 10 

516 The Squire’s Legacy (in large type). 20 


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”ll6 Moths. By “ Ouida” 20 

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"1118 Loys, Lord Berresford, and Eric Der- 

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119 Monica, and A Rose Distill’d. By 

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: ' 121 Maid of Athens. By Justin McCarthy ^ 

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For Himself Alone. By T. VV. JSpeight 10 

The Captain's Daughter. From the Russian of Pushkin 10 

Thorns and Orange-Hlossoins. By Author of “ Doha Thorne 20 

Rachel Ray. By Anthony Trollope 20 

Love Finds the Way, and Other Stories. By Besant and Rice 10 

God and the Man. By Robert Buchanan 20 

Promises of Marriage. By Emile Gaboriau 10 

One False, Both Fair. By John B. Harwood 20 

Jenifer. By Annie Thomas (Mrs. Pender Cudlip) 20 

She Loved Him. By Annie Thomas (Mrs. Pender Cudlip) 10 

A Glorious Fortune. By Walter Besant 10 

The Romantic Adventures of a Milkmaid. By Thos. Hardy. 10 

Green Pastures and Piccadilly. By William Black 20 

Uncle Jack. By Walter Besant 10 

“That Last Rehearsal.” By “The Duchess” 10 

A Great Heiress. By R. E. Francillon 10 

Rossmoyne. By “ The Duchess ” 10 

Adrian Bright. By Mrs. Caddy 20 

lone Stewart. By Mrs. E. Lynn Linton 20 

Maid of Athens. By Justin McCarthy 20 

Diamond Cut Diamond. By T. Adolphus Trollope 10 

Mrs. Carr’s Companion. By M. Wightwick 10 

The Waters of Marah. By John Hill 20 

Under The Red Flag. By Miss M. E. Braddon 10 

Little Loo. By W. Clark Russell 20 

A Nohle Wife. By John Saunders 20 

The Coral Pin. By F. Du Boisgobey 30 

All in a Garden Fair. By Walter Besant 20 

A Broken Wedding-Ring. Bythe Author of “Dora .Thorne” 20 
Dora Thorne. By the Author of “ Her Mother’s Sin . 20 

Thicker Tlian Water. By James Payn 20 

A It i ora Peto. By Laurence Oliphant 20 

Yolande. By William Black 20 


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